iWJJMJViMtmjtVj!iillfUUUlUiilu^tn*MnULti3nmiim'^^^  ■ 


Banker  of  Bankersville 


A  NOVEL 


MAURICE  THOMPSON 

AUTHOR    OF 

'ALICE    OF    OLD    VINCENNES,"     "THE    KING    OF    HONEY    ISLAND," 
**A  TALLAHASSEE  GIRL,"   ETC. 


NEW   YORK 
STREET  &   SMITH 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  i8S6, 
By  O.  M.  DUNHAM 

Copyright,  1900, 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 


1474 


THIS    STORY    OF    A    WESTERN    LAWYER    AND    HIS    FINANCIAL    PARTNER    IS 
DEDICATED   TO  THE  GREATEST  LIVING  FORENSIC  ORATOR,  THE 

HONORABLE   D.  W.  VOORHEES, 

BY  HIS  HUMBLEST  FRIEND   AND  ADMIRER 

THE  AUTHOR. 


M558957 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/bankerofbankersvOOthomrich 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 


I. 

MRS.  NORA  O'SLAUGHTERY,  a  bright  and 
comely  widow,  was  hovering  around  the  im- 
maculate table  of  her  little  breakfast-room,  where  her 
four  or  five  regular  boarders  were  discussing  their 
morning  meal.  She  held  in  one  of  her  fair,  plump 
hands  a  long  brush  of  gay  peacock  feathers,  with  which 
she  made  pretence  of  driving  off  flies,  when  in  fact  the 
closely-screened  windows  and  doors  rendered  it  impos- 
possible  for  even  a  gnat  to  trespass  on  the  quiet  neat- 
ness of  her  well-spread  board. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery's  boarders  were  all  men  ;  she  ob- 
jected to  women  as  troublesome. 

"  They  meddle  and  bother  and  make  a  whole  world 
o*  worry  when  there's  no  need  at  all,"  she  would  say, 
with  a  charming  hint  of  the  brogue  of  County  Kerry, 
"  and  then  they  always  want  to  borry  your  waterproof 
cloak,  or  your  overshoes,  or  your  umbrella,  or  for  that 
matter,  your  hard-earned  money,  and  they  niver  pay 
back — niver." 


lO  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  was  ashamed  of  the  Irish  sounds 
that  would  now  and  then  betray  her ;  she  struggled 
hard  to  repress  every  salient  of  her  nationality.  Not 
that  she  was  ashamed  of  her  birthplace  or  of  her  an- 
cestry, but  because  she  very  much  desired  to  be  like 
the  intelligent  and  well-educated  American  women 
with  whom  she  affected  a  refreshing  familiarity.  She 
was  handsome,  and  she  knew  well  the  charm  of  being 
handsome  ;  her  wit  was  of  the  true  County  Kerry  sort, 
and  there  never  was  a  readier  talker.  She  was  nearly 
always  smiling,  but  she  could  cry  like  April,  being 
quite  ready  with  tears  as  with  the  music  of  her  sweet 
laughter.  The  boarders  liked  her,  as  did  every  body 
who  knew  her,  though  some  of  them  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  tease  her  whenever  the  occasion 
offered.  One,  Jere  Downs,  was  the  most  incorrigible 
of  these,  owing  in  a  degree,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  bachelor  and  bald-headed,  with  a  great, 
round  jolly  face  which  forestalled  undue  vexation,  and 
with  a  voice  as  full  of  blarney  as  if  he  too  had  been 
born  in  County  Kerry. 

One  boarder,  Mrs.  Nora  O'Slaughtery  had  who  was 
to  her,  as  well  as  to  many  another  inquisitive  person 
in  Bankersville,  a  most  interesting  and  baffling  mys- 
tery. This  was  Louis  Milford,  the  tall,  quiet,  dark, 
young  man  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  He  had 
dropped  into  the  boarding-house  some  four  months 
prior  to  the  time  at  which  our  story  opens,  giving  no 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKER SVILLE.  II 

account  of  himself,  but  enforcing  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  gentleman  by  that  subtle  means  known  to  every  close 
observer,  but  at  the  command  of  so  few.  His  charm 
of  manner,  if  it  could  be  called  that,  was  not  due  in 
the  least  to  sociability  or  even  friendliness,  for  he  was 
reserved  and  distant  to  an  extent  never  before  toler- 
ated in  Bankersville. 

It  was  generally  understood  that  Louis  Milford  was 
a  southerner ;  not  that  any  body  had  ever  heard  him 
say  so ;  it  was  patent,  obvious ;  but  from  just  what 
southern  state  he  had  come  and  in  what  part  of  the 
Confederate  Army  he  had  served,  it  was  not  so  plain. 
At  first  he  was  supposed  to  be  rich,  owing,  no  doubt, 
to  his  elegant,  though  by  no  means  costly  clothes,  and 
to  the  well-equipped  law  office  he  had  opened  on  the 
second  floor  of  a  building  just  across  the  street  from 
the  new  Court-house.  Later  it  was  discovered  that  he 
was  very  poor  and  hard  pressed  to  keep  his  rent  paid 
and  his  clothes  respectable,  a  discovery  which  lowered 
him  very  much  in  the  common  opinion  of  Bankers- 
ville, notwithstanding  that  his  deportment  did  not 
change  in  the  least,  and  though  he  paid  all  his  bills 
with  mechanical  regularity.  We  shall  never  find  out 
how  the  people  of  a  small  inland  town  make  them- 
selves acquainted  with  an  individual's  financial  condi- 
tion, but  we  well  know  that  it  requires  more  than  cash 
payments  and  absolute  reticence  to  hide  a  constantly 
collapsing  purse.     The    quintessence  of  poverty  leaks 


12  A  B A  NICER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

out,  bottle  it  as  we  may,  and  gives  its  unmistakable 
peculiarity  to  the  atmosphere  around  us. 

Mrs.  Nora  O'Slaughtery,  as  she  walked  lightly  be- 
hind her  guests  and  waved  the  peacock  banner  slowly 
back  and  forth  above  their  heads,  was  pondering  rather 
more  seriously  than  ever  before  the  probable  financial 
distress  of  her  favorite  boarder,  not  from  a  selfish 
point  of  view  strictly,  though  she  could  ill-afford  to 
lose  by  him,  but  with  some  concern  for  the  young  man 
himself,  whose  face  appeared,  as  she  fancied,  more 
thoughtful  this  morning  than  usual.  She  looked  at 
him  now  and  again  with  something  like  a  tender  light 
in  her  large  blue  eyes. 

Milford  appeared  to  eat  mechanically,  as  if  his  whole 
mind  had  gone  on  some  distant  errand.  Once  or  twice 
he  lifted  his  glance  to  the  face  of  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery, 
as  if  she  might  be  rather  intimately  connected  with  his 
thoughts,  but  he  certainly  did  not  notice  the  quick 
blush  that  each  time  ran  over  the  widow's  healthy 
cheeks. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,"  said  Jere  Downs, 
toying  with  a  snowy  napkin,  "  this  chicken  is  the  ten- 
derest  for  one  of  its  age,  now  mind  you,  that  ever  I 
tasted — delicious !  " 

"  Indade — indeed,"  (she  corrected  herself),  "  you're 
old  enough  to  be  a  judge,  Mr.  Downs,  to  be  sure,  but 
it  would  be  a  spring  chayken  indeed  that'd  feel  flat- 
tered in  the  layst  by  your  compliment,  I'm  sure." 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  1 3 

Downs  leaned  back  and  chuckled  behind  the  napkin 
with  his  eyes  twinkling  and  his  red  face  glowing. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  tossed  her  shapely  head  after  the 
manner  of  one  who  has  had  the  best  of  an  affair,  and 
resumed  work  with  the  brush  of  peacock  feathers. 

"  It's  a  question  of  some  importance  and  of  much 
obscurity,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,  as  to  how  old  a  chicken 
must  be  before  it  may  certainly  be  said  to  have  passed 
the  boundary  of  youth  and  entered " 

*'  Never  moind,  Mr.  Downs,  your  appetite  is  better 
developed  than  your  intelligence,  to  be  sure,  but  when 
you  get  older  you'll  be  all  right;  you're  a  very  clear- 
headed youth,  even  now." 

Downs  involuntarily  stroked  the  bald  top  of  his 
head  at  this  sly  allusion  to  it,  and  after  rallying 
ing  a  moment  responded : 

"  Very  true,  very  true ;  the  upward  flight  of  my 
airy  wit  is  never  in  danger  of  getting  flustrated  by  a 
Langtry  bang  or  a  pompadour  roach ;  you  guessed  it 
the  first  trial,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery." 

**  I'm  sure  I  don't  comprehind  your  meaning,  at  all, 
Mr.  Downs,  you're  so  very  indirect  and  obscure  in 
your  allusions,  altogither."  She  put  on  a  demure  air 
and  held  up  her  unoccupied  hand  as  she  spoke,  arch- 
ing her  eyebrows  at  the  same  time,  and  drawing  in  a 
long  breath,  "  If  I  were  you,  Mr.  Downs,  I  should 
study  simplicity  of  expression  ;  you'd  be  more  popular 
in  your  business." 


14  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Downs  was  an  auctioneer,  and  it  was  evident  that 
he  had  unlimited  confidence  in  himself,  but  somehow 
Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  nearly  always  made  him  feel  his 
inferiority  in  these  light  passages ;  it  was  not  so  much 
what  she  said  as  the  spirit  she  put  into  it.  She  knew 
the  art  of  dressing  effectively  on  a  small  allowance, 
and  the  bloom  of  her  face  and  the  plump,  youthful 
grace  of  her  rather  large  figure  gave  her  wit  and 
humor  a  force,  not  in  the  words  she  used,  but  which 
came  along  with  them  like  an  electrical  accompani- 
ment. Her  voice,  a  genuinely  Irish  one,  was  very 
rich  and  sweet,  and  her  lips  and  teeth  were  beautiful. 

'*  Well,  good-morning,  au  revoivy  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery. 
I  must  tear  myself  away  until  the  noon-day  feast; 
meantime,  don't  forget  that  lovely  nev/  style  of  baked 
beans  you've  been  givin*  us  every  day  for  the  last  six 
weeks,"  said  Downs,  rising  from  the  table  and  hastily 
leaving  the  room. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  was  about  to  retort,  when  she 
chanced  to  glance  at  the  young  lawyer,  who  was  also 
preparing  to  go.  Something  in  his  face  arrested  her 
words,  and  almost  her  breath  as  well.  Paleness,  as  we 
call  it,  shows  with  strange  effect,  sometimes,  on  a  very 
dark  face,  especially  if  the  eyes  too  be  dark  and  deep- 
set.  During  a  moment  or  two,  while  the  rest  of  the 
boarders  v/ere  going  out,  Mr.  Milford  stood  in  the 
attitude  of  one  who  considers  a  question  at  once 
urgent   and    perplexing.     There  was    not    a   hint    of 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  1$ 

unsteadiness  in  his  face  or  form  ;  but  something  in  his 
air  suggested  an  inward  faltering,  as  if  he  were  about 
to  do  something  which  called  for  unusual  effort. 
Presently,  when  he  and  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  were  left 
to  themselves,  he  said  : 

'*  Can  I  have  a  moment's  talk  with  you  in  the  par- 
'ior,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery?" 

The  widow's  fresh  face  grew  pale,  and  for  once  in 
her  life  she  found  her  tongue  unable  to  serve  her  need. 
A  sudden  weakness  came  over  her,  causing  an  almost 
visible  tremor  to  assail  her  limbs. 

"  I  have  something  that  I  must  talk  with  you  about 
at  once,"  he  added,  turning  as  he  spoke  and  passing 
through  a  doorway  into  the  parlor. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  followed  him,  with  a  sense  of 
suffocation  she  never  before  had  felt.  Involuntarily 
she  put  her  hands  over  her  heart. 

He  gave  her  a  chair,  and  drawing  another  quite  near 
her,  sat  down.  It  was  a  pretty  and  cozy  little  room, 
dim  and  cool. 

"  I  have  thought  of  speaking  to  you,  but  have 
delayed,  perhaps  too  long,  hoping  against  hope." 

His  voice  was  firm,  but  it  was  almost  husky.  He 
paused  a  moment,  sitting  upright  with  his  small, 
almost  delicate  hands  resting  on  his  knees. 

The  widow  tried  to  look  at  him  but  her  eyes  fell 
under  his  painfully  direct  gaze.  She  felt  that  she 
must  say  something. 


1 6  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Milford,  you're  not  going  away,  I  hope? 
It's  very  pleasant,  indade,  to  have  you  with  us ;  we 
sha'n't  be  able  to  do  without  you  at  all,"  she  tremu- 
lously ejaculated. 

"  It  depends  upon  you,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,"  he 
responded  ;  **  I  ought  to  go,  and  I  shall  if  you  desire 
it.  I  feel  that  I  have  not  treated  you  kindly,  to  say 
the  least,  in  not  speaking  sooner."  He  was  evidently 
trying  to  measure  his  words  and  preserve  his  distant 
dignity  of  manner. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  breathed  as  one  does  who  has 
just  finished  a  long  run  up-stairs,  but  he  did  not 
observe  it.  He  was  fully  employed  with  keeping  the 
mastery  of  his  own  feelings. 

"  I  can  not  say  that  I  have  entirely  lost  hope,"  he 
went  on,  lifting  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  speaking  in 
a  slow  way,  *'  but  I  do  not  feel  that  it  is  right  to  ask 
you  to  share  in  my  small  remnant  of  confidence.  I 
don't  wish  to  mislead  you." 

*•■  No,  sir ;  I  know  you  wouldn't  desave  me  at  all. 
You're  too  noble  and  good;  your  southern  heart  is 
entirely  too  brave  and  warum  for  the  loikes  o'  that !  " 
she  exclaimed,  forgetting  to  guard  against  the  Irish 
accent  and  brogue. 

Milford  moved  uneasily  when  the  word  southern 
fell  from  her  lips,  as  if  some  peculiar  sting  belonged  to 
it.  He  recovered  himself  instantly,  however,  and 
again  fixing  his  eyes  upon  her  face,  said : 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  17 

**  You  must  not  let  your  confidence  in  my  honor 
overrule  your  good,  practical,  business  judgment  in 
this  matter,  for  my  future  is  very  precarious,  it  prom- 
ises nothing  whatever  that  I  can  see,  nothing  what- 
ever."    There  was  a  singular  bitterness  in  his  tone. 

She  had  gathered  up  the  corner  of  her  little 
embroidered  white  apron  and,  as  furtively  as  possible, 
she  wiped  away  a  tear  with  it. 

He  saw  this,  and  for  the  first  time  faltered  in  his 
slow  speech.  He  felt  his  own  eyes  grow  dim  for  a 
second,  but  he  brought  forward  his  stubborn  will  and 
crushed  back  the  emotion.  Then,  with  sudden 
effort : 

"The  time  for  which  I  have  paid  you  is  up  this 
morning,"  he  went  on,  his  voice  actually  husky,  "  and 
I  have  no  more  money.  You  must  trust  me,  or  I 
must  go  ;  and  to  trust  me,"  he  hurriedly  exclaimed,  "  is 
to  depend  on  a  broken  stick  !  " 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  drew  a  sudden,  deep  breath,  as  if 
his  words  had  been  a  cold  stream  of  water  dashed 
over  her,  and  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  chair,  looking 
straight  at  him  now.     She  broke  forth  : 

"An*  this  is  your  great  saycret  is  it?  Bless  me 
loife  ! "  Then  gathering  herself  together  in  a  twink- 
ling, she  abandoned  the  hated  brogue. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  she  said,  "and  it  is  credit  you  want !" 
She  laughed  and  flung  down  her  apron.  "  Well,  I 
never  credited   but   one   man,  and  he  owes   me  yit, 


1 8  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

though  it's  a  long  time  since  it  was  due.  Credit 
breeds  discredit,  ye  know." 

Milford  arose.  The  strange  paleness  had  deepened 
in  his  face. 

"  I  do  not  blame  you/'  he  murmured,  as  he  half 
turned  away,  "you  are  right,  I  never  could  pay  you." 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  sprang  to  her  feet  and  took  a 
quick  step  toward  him,  with  her  arms  half-raised,  but 
she  checked  whatever  impulse  was  moving  her,  and 
stood  before  him  erect,  with  her  big,  gray-blue  eyes 
wide  open.  She  was  almost  as  tall  as  he,  although 
his  stature  was  above  the  average,  and  she  showed 
her  fine  figure  to  good  effect.  It  was  but  a  short  space 
she  required  for  getting  full  control  of  herself,  then 
she  pointed  to  his  chair  and  said : 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Milford,  and  let  us  talk  this  matter 
over.  I  think  there's  no  trouble  about  it  at  all.  You 
are  excited." 

He  sat  down,  but  got  up  again  at  once  and  said : 

**  No,  it  is  foolish — it  is  ungenerous  in  me.  I  can 
not,  I  do  not  ask  it." 

"  Now  listen,  at  you  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  sit  down 
just  a  bit,  don't  be  going  off  in  a  flurry.  Would  you 
leave  a  lady  when  she  wants  to  talk  with  you !  " 

He  dropped  once  more  into  the  chair,  and  a  smile, 
rather  a  forlorn  one,  to  be  sure,  came  over  his  haggard 
face. 

"  Now,  thin,  business,"  she  said,  putting  all  her  wealth 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  1 9 

of  cheerfulness  into  her  voice  ;  **  you've  asked  me  for 
credit,  and,  rayther  than  lose  a  good  boarder,  I'm  going 
to  give  it.  What  do  you  say  to  a  two  months'  trial, 
Mr.  Milford?" 

Her  head,  with  its  load  of  dark  brown  hair  was  held 
to  one  side  while  she  was  speaking,  and  she  leaned 
her  body  slightly  forward  as  she  ended.  Milford  was 
dazed  to  a  degree  that  rendered  him  unable  to  formu- 
late an  answer  at  once. 

"  Eight  weeks,  sir,  no  more,  I'll  give  you,"  she  con- 
tinued in  a  bantering  tone,  settling  back  in  her  chair, 
*'  and  if  you  don't  catch  a  good  client  by  that  time  I'll 
let  you  go." 

He  smiled  again,  despite  his  low  spirits ;  her  cheer- 
fulness was  infectious. 

" Will,  you  may  smile,"  she  archly  added,  "but  I 
declare  upon  my  word  that  I  won't  keep  you  a  day 
longer  than  eight  weeks,  if  you  don't  pay,  so,  there 
now  !  " 

"  All  right,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,"  he  finally  said,  with 
an  attempt  at  a  levity  not  natural  to  him  at  any  time, 
"  I'll  accept  your  kind  offer,  but  the  eight  weeks'  board 
will  be  lost  to  you,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Niver  moind — niver  moind,  Mn  Milford,  I'll  take 
my  chances,  all  the  same,"  she  responded,  almost 
gayly.  "  Now  off  with  you  to  your  office,  and  to  work 
with  a  good  will,  sir  !  " 

The  young  man  arose  and  stood  for  a  time  in  silence, 


20  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

looking  down  upon  her.  Then  with  a  tremor  in  his 
voice  he  hurriedly  exclaimed  : 

"  I  can  not  even  try  to  say  thanks  to  you — ^you  are 
doing  more  for  me  than  you  dream  of — you  are  saving 
more  than  my  life." 

She  got  up,  smiling  sweetly,  and  stood  before  him. 

*'  Go,  now,  and  don't  iver  at  all  mention  this  again," 
she  said  ;  "  it's  high  toime  for  your  office  to  be  open, 
who  knows  but  what  there's  a  rich  cloient  waiting  on 
your  stair  this  minute  !  " 

Louis  Milford  snatched  the  woman*s  hand  and 
squeezed  it,  pressed  it  to  his  lips  in  an  ecstacy  of  grat- 
itude, then  dropped  it  and  stalked  loftily  out  of  the 
house. 

Mrs.  Nora  O'Slaughtery  stood,  just  as  Milford  left 
her,  gazing  at  the  carpet  and  breathing  aloud  as  if 
panting  from  great  exertion.  She  clasped  her  hands 
and  wrung  them,  whispering  in  a  shrill,  tragic  way  as 
she  did  so : 

"Oh,  the  poor  mon  !  The  darlin*  dear  fellow !  How 
he  has  suffered,  poor  boy  !  And — and — and — what  a 
silly  goose  I  was,  to  be  sure  !  What  a  squeeze  he  gave 
my  hand  !  and  it  was  a  burning  kiss — a  real  lover's  kiss, 
it  was  !     I  wonder,  but — pshaw  !  " 

She  flung  herself  about,  tossed  her  head  airily  and 
ran  out  into  the  dining-room  where  she  soon  began  to 
sing  some  gay  Irish  love  song,  as  she  busied  herself 
with  her  work.     Her  face  for  a  full  hour  wore  a  bril- 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  21 

liant  blush  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with  a  very  becoming 
light.  Now  and  again,  in  the  spaces  between  singing 
and  moods  of  thoughtfulness,  she  would  laugh  softly 
to  herself  and  murmur  in  a  tone  of  banter  :  '*  Dear, 
dear,  and  what  a  flighty  goose  I  was,  to  think  he  was 
going  to  say  any  thing  !  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  energetically  and  put  a 
cluster  of  violets  on  her  bosom  in  token  of  the  purity 
of  her  friendship  for  the  poor  young  man. 


II. 

MILFORD  walked  down  the  street  toward  his 
office,  scarcely  aware  of  any  relief  from  the  strain 
ander  which  he  had  been  suffering.  The  humiliation 
o(  his  new  predicament  seemed  worse,  from  a  certain 
point  of  view,  than  the  one  from  which  Mrs.  O'Slaugh- 
tery's  kindness  had  rescued  him.  A  sense  of  humilia- 
tion fell  over  him.  It  was  as  if  every  body  he  passed 
on  the  street  knew  that  he  was  a  pensioner  on  a  poor 
woman's  bounty  and  was  wondering  why  he  was  such 
a  failure  in  a  business  way.  The  four  or  five  months 
that  he  had  been  in  Bankersville  appeared,  as  he  looked 
back  over  them,  an  age  of  disappointment,  worry  and 
anguish.  How  anxious  he  had  been  to  keep  people 
from  knowing  of  his  struggle  with  poverty,  and  now 
how  could  he  bear  to  face  the  further  and  bitterer 
blasts  of  a  storm  which,  until  to-day  he  had  buffeted 
almost  serenely,  thinking  himself  unobserved  and 
therefore  unpitied.  He  was  very  proud  and  by  nature 
and  the  circumstances  of  training,  he  had  formed  the 
habit  of  carrying  his  head  high  and  passing  every  body 
with  a  certain  air  of  reserve  and  distant,  almost  solemn 
courtesy,  by  no  means  charming  to  the  cheerful,  ener- 
getic   and   equally   proud  democrats  of  Bankersville. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  23 

The  young  men  who  would  have  become  his  compan- 
ions and  friends  were  mostly  farmers'  sons  who  had 
come  to  the  little  city  to  seek  their  fortunes  in  the 
professions,  or  in  merchandising,  and  who  retained 
something  of  the  breadth  and  freedom  of  prairie  corn- 
fields and  liberal  meadows  in  their  characters.  They 
resented  his  bearing  toward  them  as  not  only 
unfriendly,  but  as  an  assumption  of  personal  superior- 
ity. No  doubt  the  fact  that  his  education  appeared 
to  be  of  a  higher  order  than  theirs  and  his  manners 
indicative  of  better  breeding,  had  generated  that  sort 
of  envy  in  their  breasts  which,  to  most  of  us,  is  very 
humiliating  and  yet  very  dear.  Democracy  is  superbly 
liberal  to  every  body  except  the  aristocrat,  and 
especially  the  aristocrat  who  has  no  money.  If  Mil- 
ford  had  been  very  rich  and  had  been  inclined  to  make 
a  great  show  of  personal  extravagance,  the  situation 
would  have  been  quite  different.  So,  if  he  had  owned 
a  title,  no  matter  how  empty,  his  lofty  bearing  might 
have  caused  him  no  inconvenience ;  for  any  thing  gen- 
uine, even  a  genuine  title  of  despised  nobility,  extorts 
a  kind  of  respect  from  the  most  ultra  republican,  no 
matter  how  furious  may  be  his  hatred  of  every  heredi- 
tary distinction  among  men. 

Milford's  reticence,  the  mystery  which  in  some  way 
had  attached  to  his  past  history,  and  his  peculiar  inde- 
pendence and  self-sufficiency  of  manner,  all  combined 
to  emphasize  a  certain  feeling,  almost  amounting  to 


24  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

satisfaction,  with  which  the  citizens  of  Bankersville 
perceived  his  certain  descent  toward  humiliation.  It 
would  not  be  just  to  Milford  if  we  should  attribute  his 
course  to  bad  motives  or  to  a  weakness  for  mere  show, 
and  yet  the  cost  of  his  law  library  and  office  furniture 
and  his  punctilious  observance  of  the  latest  fashion  in 
his  dress  were  to  be  classed  as  evidences  of  folly  by 
practical  men  in  Bankersville,  considering  that  he  was 
poor,  unknown,  and  just  beginning  the  pursuit  of  a  very 
exacting  and  precarious  profession.  Another  fact 
weighed  heavily  against  him,  he  was  a  Southerner  and 
had  been  a  confederate  soldier.  The  war  of  the  re- 
bellion was  too  recent  a  thing  then  for  any  great  soft- 
ening of  the  feelings  its  horrors  had  excited  to  have 
come  about,  and  to  many  good  people  it  appeared  a 
bit  of  brazen  impudence  for  an  unrepentant  rebel  to 
come  up  into  the  North  and  complacently  open  an 
office,  with  a  view  to  competing  with  loyal  men  before 
a  loyal  public  for  the  emoluments  of  professional  life. 
Then,  too,  some  close  observers  concluded  that  Mil- 
ford  carried  in  his  face,  fine-cut  and  almost  stern,  un- 
mistakable evidences  of  having  been  a  cruel,  soulless 
slave-driver,  or,  at  least,  an  abettor  of  those  who  kept 
blood-hounds  and  delighted  in  the  music  of  the  lash. 
The  human  imagination  is  so  ready  to  assist  to  its 
utmost  the  development  of  every  tragic  suggestion  in 
such  an  instance.  How  much  of  this  condition  of  public 
feeling  was  due  to    Milford's  lack  of  those   qualities 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  25 

which  render  a  man  popular,  and  to  his  reserve  and 
hauteur  of  manner,  would  be  hard  to  say.  Bankers- 
ville  was  situated  at  about  that  point  of  latitude  and 
longitude,  nearly  midway  between  St.  Louis  and  Cin- 
cinnati, where  a  long  line  of  rich  and  cultured  ancestry 
and  an  air  of  personal  exclusiveness  are  of  least  value, 
and  where  individual  energy,  pluck  and  shrewdness 
compass  the  largest  results.  Milford  was  well  aware  of 
this,  and  felt  that  if  once  he  could  find  his  way  to  an  op- 
portunity, he  should  be  able  to  command  the  full  value 
of  whatever  intellectual  superiority  he  possessed,  de- 
spite the  hindrance  offered  by  his  antecedents.  But  his 
was  not  a  character  formed  for  making  its  own  oppor- 
tunities, if  indeed  he  was  fitted  for  grasping  fortune 
when  it  should  be  thi"ust  toward  him.  His  first  step  in 
Bankersville  was  a  mistake  characteristic  of  no  Western 
business  man.  He  had  but  two  thousand  dollars  to 
begin  with,  and  of  this  sum  he  invested  eighteen  hun- 
dred dollars  in  a  well-selected  law  library  and  an  elegant 
suite  of  office  furniture,  including  a  carpet,  leaving  but 
two  hundred  dollars  between  his  lips  and  starvation,  in 
a  town  where  he  was  a  stranger  in  all  that  the  word 
implies.  Of  course  he  ought  to  have  foreseen  the  re- 
sult ;  but  the  truth  is  he  never  once  thought  of  it  until 
it  was  upon  him,  when  the  apparition  of  failure  and 
worse  struck  him  blind  and  dumb,  so  to  speak.  For  a 
certain  number  of  days  he  had  sat  in  his  office  dili- 
gently studying  the  statutes  and  court  decisions  of  the 


26  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

state,  earnestly  intent  upon  making  himself  thoroughly 
ready  for  the  clients  he  never  doubted  would  come  to 
him.  Suddenly  he  found  his  purse  nearly  empty  and 
not  a  brief  in  hand,  not  a  client  with  which  to  begin 
his  list.  Fortunately  such  a  predicament  comes  to  com- 
paratively few  persons  of  Milford's  character,  for,  after 
all,  most  of  our  poor  young  men  who  go  into  the  pro- 
fessions find  their  way  to  an  honest  living  without  any 
particularly  tragical  experiences.  No  doubt  the  reason 
of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  as  a  class  and  as  individuals 
they  recognize  the  necessity  of  crawling  before  walk- 
ing and  of  walking  before  running.  But  to  say  the 
truth  Milford  had  thought  of  nothing  but  beginning  at 
a  full  run.  He  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  his  place 
was  at  the  top,  and  he  had  not  considered  that  his  suc- 
cess depended  in  any  measure  upon  his  personal  exer- 
tions toward  getting  business  in  the  first  place.  In 
other  words  he  never  had  dreamed  that  he  should  have 
to  hunt  up  his  first  client  and,  as  it  were,  drag  him  up 
into  the  office  and  coax  him  to  the  point  of  employing 
his  captor.  Moreover,  he  nursed  high  notions  of  the 
dignity  of  his  profession ;  as  if  he  had  lived  in  the 
golden  age  of  the  law,  when  to  be  a  lawyer  was  a  very 
high  honor. 

As  he  walked  down  the  street  to  his  office,  that  sweet 
spring  morning,  he  reckoned  himself  to  be  of  much 
less  importance  to  the  world  than  any  previous  calcu- 
lation  had  disclosed.     There   was  an  almost  unbear- 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  2 J 

able  humiliation  in  the  thought  that  even  Mrs. 
0*Slaughtery,  a  poor  widow,  was  quite  able  to  do  more 
than  he  in  the  battle  for  bread,  and  that  his  freedom 
to  prolong  his  own  struggle  for  two  months  more  de- 
pended upon  her  generosity  and  pity. 

He  had  nearly  reached  his  ofifice  when  he  felt  a  hand, 
not  slight  by  any  means,  laid  on  his  arm.  He  looked 
down  and  saw  the  short,  fat  form  of  the  auctioneer 
Downs  beside  him.  The  familiarity  of  the  man's  act 
was  far  from  agreeable  to  Milford,  even  in  his  despond- 
ence, but  the  cheerful  and  hearty  voice  with  which  he 
spoke,  in  a  manner  compensated  for  the  liberty  of  his 
touch. 

"  I  haven't  spoke  to  you,  I  believe,  Mr.  Milford, 
about  getting  your  sales,"  he  said  in  an  apologetic  way, 
"  but  when  you  have  a  sale  I  hope  you'll  use  your  in- 
fluence fer  me.  I  try  to  cry  sales  as  well  and  as  low  as 
any  of  'em." 

Milford  shook  off  the  man's  hand  from  his  sleeve  and 
turned  upon  him  a  look  of  dignified  but  extreme 
anger. 

''When  I  sell  I  shall  not  sell  at  auction,  thank  you," 
was  the  only  response  he  could  utter.  It  never  came 
into  his  mind  that  Mr.  Downs  might  mean  those  pub- 
lic sales  which  lawyers  sometimes  control  for  their 
clients.  His  brain  was  so  filled  with  visions  of  the 
most  probable  outcome  toward  which  his  professional 
venture  was  swiftly  tending,  that  he  could  not  imagine 


225  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

any  thing  less  doleful  than  a  sale  of  his  books  and  fur- 
niture in  the  auctioneer's  suggestion. 

Downs  was  a  rare  judge  of  human  faces  and  human 
motives,  as  indeed  his  business  required  him  to  be.  He 
looked  with  a  sudden  sharp  inquiry  into  Milford's  eyes, 
and  almost  instantly  his  countenance  exchanged  sur- 
prise for  a  curious  flash  of  discovery. 

*'  Oh,  you  don't  catch  on  right,  I  mean  legal  sales, 
like  administrators'  sales  and  guardians'  and " 

''Nevermind,  I  see,  I  understand,"  Milford  hastened 
to  say,  his  face  flushing  a  little.  ''  I  was  absent-minded. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  remember  you  at  need,  though,  of 
course,  for  a  while  yet  my  opportunities  to  serve  you 
will  be  few." 

"  Sometimes  I  see  chances  to  throw  business  into  a 
lawyer's  hands,"  Downs  replied,  "■  and  I  may  be  able 
to  turn  something  into  yours.  One  good  turn 
deserves  another,  and  I  believe  in  helping  them  that 
needs  help,  and  them  that  helps  me." 

They  walked  on  side  by  side,  the  lawyer  tall,  straight, 
gloomy-faced ;  the  auctioneer,  short,  good-humored, 
heavy,  red-visaged  and  apparently  happy.  When  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  stair-way  leading  up  to  Mil- 
ford's  office,  Downs  said  : 

"  I'll  come  up,  when  I  get  time,  and  have  a  talk 
with  you.  We  board  at  the  same  house  and  we'd 
ought  to  be  friends." 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  29 

**0f  course,"  said  Milford,  **call.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
see  you." 

"  Well,  good-morning ;  good  luck  to  you  for  the  day," 
added  Downs,  extending  his  soft,  thick  hand,  which 
Milford  took  with  a  warmth  not  usual.  There  was 
something  in  this  short  interview  not  to  be  put  into 
words.  Milford  still  felt  it  when  he  had  seated  him- 
self at  his  desk  in  his  office.  He  had  opened  a  volume 
of  the  state  statutes  before  him,  but  the  mood  of  the 
moment  did  not  permit  study  ;  the  glaring  facade  of 
the  new  court-house  across  the  street  was  quite  as  inter- 
esting as  the  pages  of  the  book.  In  fact,  he  sat  for  a 
long  while  gazing  through  a  window  at  a  patch  of  soft 
blue  sky  visible  above  the  roof  of  that  temple  of  jus- 
tice, within  which  as  yet  his  profession  had  not  called 
him.  Poignant  as  was  his  suffering  he  did  not  fully  real- 
ize his  situation,  but  sat  there  baffled  and  benumbed. 
He  heard  the  drays  on  the  street  with  some  thought 
of  how  much  more  successful  and  happy  the  brawny 
draymen  were  than  his  present  out-look  promised 
that  he  could  ever  be.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  for 
one  in  his  predicament  to  hold  the  reins  of  philosophy 
with  a  steady  hand ;  at  bottom  we  are  all,  in  a  degree, 
sentimentalists  and  railers  at  fortune  in  the  hour  when 
it  deserts  us.  Milford  considered,  with  a  bitter  sense 
of  revolt,  the  fact  that  certain  vulgar  and  uneducated 
young  men  whose  offices  were  near  his  appeared  to  be 
doing   a   thriving  practice.     Of  what  value  were  his 


30  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

years  of  hard  study,  his  hereditary  gentility  of  bearing, 
his  really  fine  intellect  ?  Jones>  over  the  way,  who 
habitually  said  "  I  done  it,"  "  he  had  went  "  and  *'  they 
seen  him  comin*,"  was  growing  rich  in  pursuit  of  a 
learned  profession.  Jones  had  begun  a  few  years 
before  as  a  justice  of  the  peace,  passing  from  that 
office  into  the  condition  of  a  full-fledged,  popular  and 
prosperous  lawyer.  Milford  could  not  account  for  such 
an  instance.  In  a  vague  way  Jones  appeared  to  be  a 
usurper  and  a  fraudulent  presentation.  To  see  him 
and  hear  him  make  a  speech  to  a  jury,  or  address  a 
court,  was  enough  to  drive  a  sensitive  person  from  the 
court-room.  He  bawled  and  screamed,  he  beat  the  air 
with  his  enormous  hands,  he  used  slang  and  did  awful 
violence  to  the  simplest  rules  of  grammar ;  but  he 
gained  his  causes.  To  Milford  not  only  was  this  an 
anomaly,  it  was  an  outrage  upon  professional  life,  an 
insult  to  civilization  and  the  cause  of  progress. 

His  reflections,  however,  seemed  to  rebound  upon 
him,  as  it  were,  with  an  accelerated  force,  as  if  Jones's 
success  really  demonstrated  the  theory  of  successful 
practice  at  the  Indiana  bar — or  rather  at  the  Bankers- 
ville  bar. 

What  was  all  his  learning  in  the  dead  tongues — all 
his  familiarity  with  the  classics  of  many  languages — all 
his  fine  mental  training  worth,  when  pitted  against 
Jones's  crude,  elephantine  practicality?  Success  is 
what  a  poor  young  lawyer  most  desires,  and  Jones  cer- 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  3* 

tainly  had  reached  success  by  the  shortest  route.  To 
Milford's  mind  here  was  a  clear  example  of  the  empti- 
ness of  culture.  By  an  obscure  mental  process,  the 
solution  of  the  whole  matter  appeared  to  be  that  brute 
energy,  personal  courage,  and  large  combativeness  were 
the  chief  elements  of  success.  Not  that  he  reasoned 
to  such  a  conclusion,  for  there  was  no  systematic  dis- 
cussion going  on  in  his  mind  ;  his  thoughts  were 
broken  and  scrappy,  but  they  held  in  them  the  conclu- 
sions to  which  most  despairing  men  have  arrived 
sooner  or  later.  Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  when  he 
had  been  in  his  ofifice  about  an  hour,  Downs  entered 
and  unceremoniously  took  a  seat. 

"  Got  a  question  I  want  to  get  your  opinion  on,"  he 
said  at  once.  "  I'm  into  a  little  trouble,  or  about  to 
be,  which  is  all  the  same." 

Milford  looked  at  him  absenUy  and  responded  with 
a  monosyllable : 

"  Well  ?  " 

**  It's  not  exactly  a  law  question,  I  admit,"  Downs 
proceeded  to  say,  with  a  curious  smile  on  his  round  red 
face,  "  but  when  a  fellow's  at  the  end  of  his  row  he 
wants  counsel,  law  or  no  law.  Did  you  ever  get  clean 
busted  in  a  strange  place,  Mr.  Milford  ?  " 

The  lawyer  colored  rather  violently,  despite  his  usual 
self-control,  and  made  no  answer  before  Downs  began 
to  speak  again  ; 

"Anyhow,  /'w  busted  to  a  dead  certainty  and  I  owe 


32  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

Mrs.  O'SIaughtery  for  three  weeks'  board,  and  I  don't 
see  what  the  old  Harry  I  am  going  to  do.  I  can't  get 
no  sales  to  cry,  nor  nothin'  of  the  sort ;  it  kinder  'pears 
like  bad  luck  has  set  down  on  me,  sort  o*  made  a  mash 
on  me  for  good.  Makes  a  feller  feel  kind  o'  suicida- 
ceous." 

Milford  gazed  into  the  auctioneer's  genial  eyes  with 
a  strange,  cold  stare.  His  misery  was  not  of  the  sort 
that  courts  company,  and  he  was  not  of  a  turn  to 
relish  coarse  humor  or  to  make  a  man  like  Downs  his 
confidant ;  but  he  felt  the  stirrings  of  sympathy,  never- 
theless. He  remembered  now  that  he  and  the  auction- 
eer had  come  to  Bankersville  at  about  the  same  time, 
and  he  understood  the  situation  perfectly,  he  thought. 
Still,  as  he  had  no  word  of  comfort  to  offer,  and  felt 
the  responsibility  of  keeping  his  own  humiliating 
secret,  with  the  added  weight  of  the  dread  of  its  dis- 
covery, he  sat  in  silence,  gravely  eying  his  visitor. 

"  I  thought  you  might  know  of  some  way  by  which 
I'd  be  able  to  get  a  job,  or  may  be  you  could  lend  me 
twenty-five  dollars  for  a  few  days,"  Downs  added,  in  a 
rapid  tenor  voice,  with  his  face  growing  almost  comic- 
ally grave.  "  I  never  was  in  just  such  a  ridiculous  old 
fix  before." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  indeed,  but  it's  quite  out  of  my 
power  to  help  you,"  said  Milford,  moving  uneasily  in 
his  chair.  Then  after  a  short  pause  he  added  :  "  I  am 
sure  you  will  come  out  all  right,  however." 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  33 

"Oh,  of  course,  I'll  get  there  somehow,  you  bet  your 
life,"  exclaimed  Downs  with  energy,  bringing  his  fat 
hand  down  upon  the  green  covering  of  the  desk  with  a 
loud  slap;  **  I  don't  give  in  for  trifles;  but — but — it's 
mighty  uncomfortable  to  be  so  hard  up.  You,  in  your 
business,  can't  have  no  idea  of  such  a  thing,  I  reckon." 

**  Money  is  close  now  and  business  is  very  dull,"  said 
Milford,  with  an  inward  flush  of  shame  for  the  dry, 
indifferent  tone  of  voice  he  had  assumed.  He  had  to 
say  something. 

Downs  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  had  in  them  a 
demure  twinkle  unobserved  by  Milford.  A  consider, 
able  space  of  silence  ensued,  during  which  Milford  took 
out  his  watch,  a  gold  one,  and  Downs  consulted  his,  a 
large  silver  one. 

"  I  s'pose  I  could  put  this  up  with  the  pawn-broker 
down  here,"  the  auctioneer  remarked,  as  he  returned 
the  time-piece  to  his  pocket ;  *'  you  know  Jonas  down 
here  on  the  corner?  He  takes  things  into  pawn.  I 
guess  I  can  soak  this  old  turnip  for  five  dollars,  may  be." 

Milford's  face  flushed  with  some  quick  thought  which 
he  did  not  put  into  words.  Downs  noticed  this,  but 
only  said : 

"  Well,  I  must  stir  about,  somethin's  got  to  happen 
right  soon  in  my  case ;  guess  I'd  as  well  interview 
Jonas." 

He  got  up  and  walked  to  the  door,  where  he  turned 
and  dallied  for  a  moment,  then  half-jocularly  added : 


34  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

**  A  fellow  mustn't  be  too  proud  to  do  what  is  neces- 
sary.    Good-morning  Mr.  Milford." 

"  Good-morning,"  responded  Milford.  At  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  Downs  stopped  and  chuckled,  his  face 
growing  very  red.  "  I've  give  him  a  hint,  anyway,"  he 
thought,  "  and  if  he  don't  take  it,  sooner  or  later,  I'm 
mistaken,  poor  fellow  !  " 

Milford,  when  he  felt  quite  alone,  took  out  his  watch 
again,  and  turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  hand.  It  was 
an  elegant  and  costly  old  piece,  set  round  the  rim  with 
alternate  diamonds  and  rubies  ;  an  heir-loom  of  pre. 
cious  associations,  whose  intrinsic  value,  though  con- 
siderable, was  as  nothing  compared  with  its  immaterial 
worth.  His  face  grew  very  dark  with  the  cloud  of  his 
distressing  thoughts.  He  was  wondering  if  indeed  he 
should  have  to  go  down  to  the  pawnbroker's  before 
long.  He  replaced  his  watch  and  began  walking  back 
and  forth  across  the  office  floor.  Now  and  again  he 
stood  for  a  time  by  a  window  overlooking  the  street, 
wherein  a  business-like  stir  was  observable,  and  gazed 
down  upon  the  heads  of  the  comers  and  goers.  It 
seemed  an  inscrutable  thing  to  him  that  he  could  not 
discover  how  to  become  a  part  of  all  this  profitable 
activity.  Again  and  again  it  occurred  to  him  that 
Downs  was,  in  a  measure,  the  sort  of  man  he  should 
like  to  be,  a  man  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  his 
strait  and  plucky  enough  to  meet  an  emergency  with 
the  directest  expedient.     At  the  same  time,  however, 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  35 

he  recognized,  or  thought  he  did,  that  such  shifts  as 
Downs  could  resort  to  with  impunity  would  not  serve 
his  turn  as  they  would  that  of  the  auctioneer.  Each 
man  must  mold  his  own  life  after  the  plan  he  has 
chosen  and  can  not  utilize  with  impunity  the  patterns 
and  details  of  others,  so  he  reasoned ;  but  he  kept 
recurring  to  the  thought  of  the  pawnshop. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  a  heavy  step  on  the  stairs 
attracted  his  attention,  and  there  appeared  in  the  door- 
way, a  little  later,  a  tall,  heavy-looking  young  man, 
whose  face,  as  smooth  as  a  woman's,  looked  the  picture 
of  health  and  earnestness.  This  new-comer  was  dressed 
in  a  well-fitting  suit  of  grayish  tweed  and  bore  himself 
confidently,  as  one  who  knew  what  he  wanted  and 
who  was  sincerely  bent  upon  getting  it. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Milford?"  he  asked,  walking  directly 
up  to  the  lawyer  and  offering  his  hand.  '*  My  name  is 
Chester  Lawson,"  he  added,  in  response  to  Milford's 
polite  bow  and  inquiring  look,  "and  I  should  like  a 
talk  with  you  if  you  are  not  engaged." 

"Certainly,  take  this  chair,"  said  Milford,  "I  am 
qnite  at  leisure  just  now." 

The  two  men  sat  down  with  the  desk  between  them. 

"  To  come  to  the  point  at  once,"  said  Lawson,  with 
a  very  charming  smile  on  his  smooth  face  and  in  his 
wide  open  frank  blue  eyes,  "  I'm  a  fresh  limb  of  the 
law,  graduated  from  Ann  Arbor  law  school,  and  I'm  on 
the  look-out  for  a  partner.     I  haven't  got  the  money  to 


36  A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

buy  a  library  and  set  up  for  myself,  so  1  shall  have  to 
try  to  do  the  next  best  thing,  set  up  with  a  man  who 
is  more  fortunate." 

Milford  could  not  help  smiling.  There  was  some- 
thing almost  exhilarating  in  the  presence  of  this  hope- 
ful young  fellow,  whose  eyes  had  in  them  a  light  like 
a  prophecy  of  success,  and  whose  voice  was  so  full  of 
enthusiasm  and  self-confidence. 

"  I  saw  your  sign  below,  so  I  just  ran  up-stairs  and 
tumbled  in.  There's  nothing  like  trying,  you  know," 
continued  the  boy — for  boy  he  looked,  although  he 
must  have  been  eight-and-twenty.  ''  I  thought  I  might 
make  some  sort  of  arrangement  with  you.  I  should 
be  willing  to  pay  something  for  the  chance  to  begin  in 
an  office  like  this."  He  looked  around  over  the  neat 
furniture,  the  pretty  wall-paper  and  the  long  rows  of 
calf-bound  books  with  an  almost  greedy  expression  in 
his  fine  courageous  face,  then  added  in  a  more  matter- 
of-fact  tone:  "what  would  you  think  of  giving  me  a 
chance — what  terms  would  you  propose  ?  Of  course 
I  could  not  pay  a  great  deal  down." 

Milford  scarcely  knew  what  to  say,  so  suddenly  had 
the  matter,  full  of  such  importance  to  him,  fallen  at  his 
feet. 

"  I  should  feel  like  taking  time  to  consider  your  sug- 
gestion," he  said,  feeling  guilty  of  a  departure  from 
perfect  frankness;  he  was,  in  fact,  eager  to  close  a 
bargain. 


A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  37 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Lawson  with  a  perceptible 
abatement  of  his  eager  manner,  "  when  would  you  be 
ready  to  make  me  a  proposition,  if  at  all  ?  " 

Milford  sat  a  moment  in  silence,  but  his  brain  was 
acting  with  great  energy.  He  felt  the  terrible  danger 
of  letting  the  present  opportunity  slip  ;  it  was  the  wave 
of  fortune. 

"  Well,  after  all,  I  am  not  sure  that  we  need  to  take 
another  time  ;  now  will  do  as  well,"  he  presently  said. 
"  How  much  can  you  pay  in  cash  ?  " 

The  young  man  compressed  his  lips  a  moment  and 
bent  his  brows,  as  if  making  a  silent  calculation.  At 
length,  having  reached  a  conclusion,  he  looked  up  and 
resuming  his  smile,  said  : 

"  I  can  spare  three  hundred  dollars  now  and  I  will 
have  two  hundred  more  in  about  a  month." 

**  You  would  want  an  equal  partnership  with  me,  I 
suppose,"  suggested  Milford. 

"  Certainly,  and  just  a  little  more,"  said  Lawson.  *'  I 
should  want  my  name  in  the  lead,  that  is,  I  should 
want  our  card  to  read  Lawson  &  Milford." 

There  was  a  painful  silence  at  once.  Milford's  face 
reddened  and  paled  alternately  and  it  was  with  a  great 
deal  of  effort  that  he  controlled  himself.  The  demand 
had  the  force  of  an  insult,  though  made  without  arro- 
gance. 

"You  begin  early  with  your  exactions,"  he  at  length 


38  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

said,  somewhat  stiffly.  "  We  may  as  well  talk  no 
longer."     Milford  rose. 

"  Of  course,  if  you  like,"  said  Lawson,  rising  also 
and  taking  up  his  hat.  He  looked  a  little  disappointed, 
but  he  was  smiling  still.  "  I  thought  it  best  to  be 
frank  and  outspoken  from  the  start.  Fm  going  to 
make  things  move  like  a  cyclone  when  I  begin  work. 
I'm  going  to  work  in  the  lead,  too ;  but  I'm  willing 
to  pay  for  the  chance  and  the  place.  I  mean  busi- 
ness ! " 

The  two  men  looked  straight  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Lawson  moved  as  if  to  go,  then  turned  and  extended 
his  hand : 

*'  Good-morning,  Mr.  Milford,  I  hope  there's  no  harm 
done;  I'm  glad  to  have  met  you,"  he  cordially  ex- 
claimed, his  face  still  beaming  pleasantly.  "  If  you 
should  chance  to  reconsider  your  answer  before  I  find 
a  partner,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you.  I  am 
stopping  at  room  30,  Sudley's  Hotel." 

Milford  took  the  young  man's  hand  with  more  cor- 
diality than  might  have  been  expected,  and  held  it 
while  he  said : 

"  You  certainly  are  both  frank  and  enthusiastic.  No 
doubt  we  can  come  to  some  sort  of  terms,  if  we  try 
hard." 

"  Why,  I  should  think  we  ought,"  responded  Lawson. 
"It  can't  matter  much  to  you  about  the  style  of  the 
firm — that  is  about  which  name  comes  first,  and  it  does 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  39 

matter  to  me  a  great  deal — I  am  very  ambitious,  Mr. 
Milford." 

•'  Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  Milford,  '*  I  suppose  that  the 
style  of  the  firm  name  is  a  mere  matter  of  form  ;  but 
the  older  member's  name  usually  appears  first." 

"■  Very  true,  I  grant ;  still  I  may  as  well  say  to  you 
that  it  is  for  the  precedence  that  I  propose  to  pay  you^ 
that  and  the  use  of  your  library  and  office.  So  far  as 
the  practice,  the  business  and  all  that  is  concerned,  I 
expect  to  bring  it  here.  You  can't  work  up  a  practice, 
Mr.  Milford,  that's  not  your  strong  point." 

Lawson  spoke  all  this  in  a  tone  at  once  firm,  authori- 
tative and  pleasing.  Milford  never  before  had  heard 
any  thing  like  it ;  he  had  never  dreamed  that  any  man 
could  dare  address  him  with  such  liberty;  and  yet  there 
was  nothing  suggestive  of  intentional  impudence  in 
the  young  stranger's  manner.  On  the  contrary,  a 
magnetic  personal  force  seemed  to  go  with  what 
Lawson  said,  and  Milford  felt  an  obscure  but  strong 
attraction  toward  him,  notwithstanding  a  certain 
doubt  of  his  moral  fiber. 

They  sat  down  again  with  the  desk  between  them,  as 
before,  and  after  some  further  talk  Lawson  took  paper 
and  pen  and  hastily  dashed  off  a  memorandum  of  their 
contract.  He  did  this  before  they  had  verbally  agreed 
upon  any  of  the  terms.  While  he  was  writing  he 
kept   on  talking,  his    genial    face    glowing  with   the 


40  A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

warmth  of  his  feelings,  and  his  pen  scratching  loudly 
on  the  paper. 

"  I  think  you'll  like  me,  Mr.  Milford,  and  I  know  I 
shall  be  delighted  with  you,"  he  was  saying.  "  There's 
no  end  to  my  capacity  for  work,  and  I've  always  done 
whatever  I've  tried  to  do.  You  need  a  partner  like 
me,  a  genuine  steam-engine.  We'll  shake  up  these 
Bankersville  lawyers  and  show  them  how  to  do  busi- 
ness." 

Milford  watched  him  with  undisguised  wonder. 
There  was  something  admirable  in  his  vim  and  self- 
assertion  that  had  the  effect,  indeed,  of  suggesting  an 
engine  running  under  a  steady,  but  enormous  pressure 
of  steam.  The  fact  that  the  young  man's  face  was 
so  clean-shaven  gave  a  certain  individuality  to  his 
square-set  jaws  and  full,  strong  chin.  His  hands 
were  nervous  and  shapely  ;  indeed  his  entire  physique 
was  a  fine  embodiment  of  manly  strength  and 
health. 

The  thought  grew  in  Milford's  mind  that  here  was 
an  ideal  Westerner,  or  rather  a  real  one,  a  young  man 
with  a  force  de  jeune  dieu  and  formed  of  a  stronger 
clay  than  that  of  older  countries,  and  whose  breath  of 
life  was  indeed  a  vigorous  element.  The  Southerner's 
romantic  imagination  discovered  in  the  Westerner's 
resistless  realism  something  that  appeared  to  embody 
that  fascinating  neology  known  as  young  American- 
ism ;  not  the  young  Americanism  of  slang,  but  that  of 


A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  41 

the  strongest  meaning,  the  spirit  of  our  amazing  prog- 
ress in  material  achievement. 

"  Well,  here  it  is  in  rough  form,"  said  Lawson,  pick- 
ing up  the  document  he  had  been  draughting.  ''  I 
think  I've  got  it  substantially  right." 

He  proceeded  to  read  it  over  aloud,  emphasizing 
those  passages  referring  to  his  own  standing  and  privi- 
leges in  the  firm,  pausing  occasionally  to  offer  a  rapid 
comment  or  explanation.  The  contract  was  evenly 
balanced  in  its  provisions,  saving  that  Lawson's  posi- 
tion at  the  head  of  the  firm  seemed,  by  an  implication 
held  somewhere  between  the  phrases,  to  project  his 
business  leadership  and  to  accentuate  his  personal 
superiority. 

Milford  signed  the  paper  with  a  certain  sense  of 
abasement,  though  he  did  not  fairly  understand  why 
it  thus  affected  him,  while  at  the  same  time  he  rec- 
ognized the  probability  of  a  great  financial  gain 
through  the  operation. 

Lawson  handed  Milford  a  check  for  three  hundred 
dollars,  and  a  note  for  two  hundred  payable  thirty  days 
after  date. 

So  the  first  legal  transaction  ever  consummated  in 
Milford's  office  was  the  beginning  of  a  career  for  both 
the  interested  parties.  The  style  of  the  new  firm  was 
Lawson  &  Milford^  Attorneys  at  Law. 


III. 

ON  account  of  the  negotiations  with  Lawson,  Mil- 
ford  was  late  starting  to  his  dinner  at  the  board- 
ing-house of  Mrs.  Nora  O'Slaughtery,  and  when  he 
came  near  the  cottage  he  met  Downs  going  down  town. 

**  You'd  better  hurry  along,  captain,"  exclaimed  the 
auctioneer,  "  or  the  widder'll  have  a  fit,  sure.  She's 
taking  on  dreadful,  thinks  you've  absconded  or  some- 
thing." 

Milford  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  made  no  other  response.  He  could  formulate  no 
rejoinder  to  such  a  bit  of  vulgar  familiarity,  and  yet 
he  rather  liked  Downs,  and  did  not  wish  to  offend  him. 
They  had  passed  each  other,  when  Milford  turned  and 
said : 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Downs." 

The  auctioneer  promptly  faced  about. 

"  I  can  let  you  have  twenty-five  dollars  now,  if  it 
will  serve  you  to  take  the  loan,"  continued  Milford, 
putting  his  hand  to  his  breast-pocket. 

Downs  involuntarily  and  with  electrical  quickness 
glanced  at  the  lawyer's  vest ;  but  the  plain  gold  chain 
was  still  there,  and,  presumably,  the  watch  also.  A 
curious  change  came  over  his  face. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  43 

"  What  time  have  you,  Mr.  Milford?"he  inquired. 
Sure  enough,  the  old  bejeweled  piece  came  forth  all 
right.  "  About  the  money,"  he  went  on.  "  I've  got 
that  all  arranged  ;  but  I'm  more  than  a  thousand  times 
obliged  to  you,  all  the  same.  It's  mighty  kind  of  you." 
He  hesitated  before  he  continued  :  "  Had  a  client  this 
forenoon,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Milford,  instantly  taking  on  his  custom- 
ary dignity  of  voice  and  manner,  thus  perceptibly 
withdrawing  himself  from  Downs's  level.  Then,  after 
a  considerable  pause,  he  added  in  a  kinder  but  still 
distant  tone  : 

''  I'm  glad  that  you  are  over  your  trouble,  Mr. 
Downs,  very  glad." 

The  auctioneer  hung  his  thumbs  in  the  pockets  of 
his  vest  and  said  : 

"  Oh,  for  that  matter,  I  always  manage  to  get  over 
difficulties,  one  way  or  another."  He  chuckled  and 
made  a  comical  grimace  while  he  was  speaking.  Mil- 
ford  passed  on  under  the  maple  trees  that  shaded  the 
red  brick  side-walk,  and  went  through  the  little  brown 
gate  of  the  O'Slaughtery  cottage.  The  widow  met 
him  at  the  door,  but  if  she  had  prepared  any  voluble 
greeting  she  discreetly  repressed  it. 

"You  must  have  been  awful  busy,  Mr.  Milford,  to 
be  forgetting  your  dinner  altogether,"  she  very  quietly 
remarked,  while  he  was  laying  aside  his  hat  and 
cane. 


44  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  engaged,"  he  answered.  "  I  hope 
I  have  not  put  you  to  too  great  inconvenience." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all,  to  be  sure,  don't  think  of 
it  a  single  minute,  Mr.  Milford.  I  was  just  a-saying  to 
Mr.  Downs,  that  you'd  been  the  layst  trouble  of  any 
boarder  I  iver  had  in  my  loife." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  little  dining-room,  and  drew 
back  Milford's  chair  for  him  ;  then  she  hastened  to 
fetch  his  soup.  He  noticed  a  little  bouquet  of  violets 
beside  his  napkin.  This,  in  a  mood  that  did  not  admit 
of  more  than  an  obscure  consciousness  of  the  act,  he 
pinned  upon  his  coat-front.  The  spring-birds  were 
singing  and  whistling  noisily  in  the  trees  near  a  win- 
dow. The  room  was  sweet  and  fresh,  with  an  out- 
door fragrance  in  its  atmosphere.  He  did  not  lookup 
when  the  soup  was  placed  before  him,  but  mechani- 
cally said  :  "  Thank  you." 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  glanced  at  the  flowers  and  blushed 
prettily.  Involuntarily  she  drew  herself  a  little  further 
away  from  him,  and  forgot  to  offer  him  the  pepper. 

He  was  running  over  in  his  mind  the  singular  nature 
of  the  whole  affair  with  Lawson,  and  was  wondering 
what  would  be  the  outcome  of  this  hasty  alliance.  He 
could  not  get  rid  of  a  haunting  sense  of  humiliation,  as 
if  he  had  sacrificed  his  dignity  and  grasped  relief  at  any 
cost.  The  thought  that  he  had  bound  himself  for  five 
years  to  be  the  partner  of  a  man  about  whose  character 
and  antecedents  he  had  not  even  stopped  to  inquire, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  45 

was  of  itself  very  depressing.  Still  he  did  not  see  how 
he  could  have  done  otherwise  ;  a  beggar  could  not 
choose,  and  Lawson  certainly  had  a  good  face  and  an 
honest  bearing. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  noted  the  thoughtful  mood,  but 
she  reasonably  attributed  it  to  Milford's  financial 
trouble,  and  she  pondered  how  she  might  lighten  his 
load,  while  she  hurried  back  and  forth  arranging  the 
simple  courses  of  the  dinner.  For  once,  however,  her 
wits  were  at  fault,  and  she  could  not  think  of  any  thing 
she  might  do  or  say  to  cheer  him.  She  was  wholly 
unprepared  for  the  emergency,  when,  at  the  close  of  the 
meal,  Milford  took  out  his  pocket-book,  and,  counting 
some  bills,  spread  them  on  the  table. 

"  You  gave  me  credit  for  two  months,  this  morning," 
he  said,  ''  and  it  was  very  kind  of  you,  for  I  needed  it 
then,  but  I  do  not  need  it  now.  As  a  sort  of  recog- 
nition of  your  goodness,  I  will  pay  you  for  two  months 
in  advance."  He  looked  up  into  her  eyes  and  his 
smile,  though  grave,  was  cordial  and  kindly. 

She  recoiled  from  him  as  if  scared,  throwing  up  both 
her  hands  to  the  level  of  her  face,  which  was  full  of 
surprise. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  you  mustn't  do  it  at  all — you  mustn't 
draym  of  such  a  thing,  Mr.  Milford,"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  shaking  voice  ;  "  keep  your  money  yourself  till 
you  can  spare  it." 

Milford,  who  did  not  feel  that  there  was  any  occa- 


46  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

sion  for  a  display  of  sentiment,  arose,  leaving  the  bills 
on  the  table,  and  turned  to  go  from  the  room.  Mrs. 
O'Slaughtery  snatched  up  the  money  and  sprang  in 
front  of  him. 

"  I  can't  permit  this,  indade,  I  can't  at  all !  "  she  cried, 
"  take  it  back  or  me  heart  will  break  entirely !  " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  really  desire  it,"  he  said.  **  I 
meant  it  as  a  matter  of  good  faith.  I  see  nothing 
wrong  about  it." 

She  threw  herself  toward  him  and  thrust  the  money 
into  his  hand,  then  she  covered  her  face  and  began  to 
cry. 

He  was  astounded  and  stood  speechless  before  her. 
A  queer  sensation  as  of  some  vaguely-defined  revela- 
tion took  possession  of  him,  but  he  shook  himself  free 
of  it  and  said,  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way  : 

"After  all,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,  your  house  is  too  far 
from  my  office,  and  I  really  think  I  shall  have  to  go  to 
a  hotel." 

She  snatched  her  hands  from  her  face  still  wet  with 
tears  and  gazed  at  him  with  flaming  eyes. 

"  There,  now  !  There,  now  !  This  is  what  I  get  for 
all  my  kindness  to  you  ;  you  turn  straight  around  and 
desart  me  ;  you  are  real  mane,  so  you  are  !  You're  jist 
like  all  the  men,  you — you — "  she  broke  down  again 
and  sobbed  aloud.  The  young  man  stood  abashed, 
feeling  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  say  or  do,  as  the  strong 
handsome  woman  gave  vent  to  her  strange  emotion. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  47 

"  Indeed,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,  you  do  me  great 
injustice,"  he  presently  said.  **  I  certainly  am  very 
grateful  for  your  kindness  to  me.  If  I  have  offended 
you  in  the  least  measure,  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons." 

She  instantly  uncovered  her  eyes  again  and  her 
smiles  shot  through  her  tears,  like  sunlight  through  rain. 

"  It's  myself  that  needs  the  pardon  altogether,  Mr. 
Milford,"  she  said,  "I'm  such  an  impulsive  creature; 
you  mustn't  pay  any  attention  to  my  outbursts  at  all." 

She  very  demurely  wiped  her  cheeks  and  eyes  with 
her  little  white  apron. 

Milford  could  not  keep  from  smiling  at  this  display 
of  Irish  volatility. 

'*  I  see  you  making  fun  of  me,  too,  but  that's  all 
right,  I  deserve  it,"  she  went  on  to  say,  holding  her 
head  to  one  side  and  sighing  resignedly.  "  A  woman 
always  gives  a  man  the  advantage  of  her  ;  but  then,  if 
he's  a  gentleman,  he  won't  use  it  at  all." 

"  At  least  you  are  in  no  danger,"  said  Milford,  lightly, 
as  he  again  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  I'm  not  either.  I'd  loike  to  see 
the  man  that  I'd  care  for  in  the  least.  I'm  not  so  sus- 
ceptible, Mr.  Milford,  I'd  have  you  to  know!"  she 
exclaimed,  bridling  and  clinching  her  hands.  *'  I  think 
it's  very  wrong  in  you  to  hint  it,  I  do  !  " 

"  Calm  yourself,  I  beg  of  you,  I  meant  nothing  of 
the  sort,  I — "  Milford  was  saying,  but  she  interrupted 
him. 


48  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  Oh,  dear !  calm  myself,  indade  !  Ain't  I  calm  as 
a  June  morning,  I  wonder  ?  What  is  there  to  excite 
me,  at  all  ?     Not  a  thing  in  the  world,  I'm  sure !  " 

Her  posture,  as  she  spoke,  was  one  denoting  the 
most  airy  indifference  and  she  ended  with  a  laugh 
which  was  almost  merry. 

Milford,  though  he  joined  in  the  laugh,  did  so  with 
a  sort  of  protest  in  his  heart,  and  he  was  glad  enough 
to  take  advantage  of  the  moment  to  get  out  of  the 
house.  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  followed  him  to  the  doorj 
however,  and  called  to  him  as  he  passed  through  the 
little  gate : 

"You'll  be  up  to  supper,  Mr.  Milford,  won't  you?  ** 

But  he  affected  not  to  hear  her.  Indeed,  he  had 
already  begun  to  think  of  his  office  and  his  new  part 
ner.  Somehow  the  smooth,  strikingly  boyish  and  yet 
masterful  face  of  the  enthusiastic  young  man  kept 
deepening  its  impression ;  but  the  nature  of  that 
impression  was  in  itself  a  puzzle  to  Milford.  As  he 
walked  on,  thoroughly  lost  in  the  whirl  of  his  thoughts, 
a  phaeton  drawn  by  a  stout  old  pony  came  near  the 
sidewalk,  and  a  benevolently  sonorous  voice  addressed 
him: 

"Mr  Milford,  a  moment,  if  you  please." 

The  lawyer  halted  and  turned  half  about,  pulling 
together  his  faculties  with  a  perceptible  effort.  The 
person  who  had  addressed  him  was  a  very  fresh-faced, 
snowy-haired,  heavy-set  old  gentleman,  whose  beard^ 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  49 

white  as  his  hair,  fell  in  wavy,  shining  ripples  upon  his 
ample  chest. 

*'  I  wanted  to  tell  you  to  be  sure  to  attend  our 
chapel  this  evening,  as  we  have  improvised  an  occa- 
sion for  a  lecture  by  Dr.  Liberalis,  of  Boston,  who 
chances  to  be  in  the  city  over  night.  He  is  a  pro- 
nounced advocate  of  woman's  rights,  you  know,  but  a 
great  thinker  and  a  good  man,  notwithstanding." 

As  the  old  gentleman  delivered  this  little  speech  he 
gazed  benignly  at  Milford,  and  upon  ending  glanced 
half  slyly  at  the  grave-faced  young  woman  who  sat  by 
his  side.  The  last-named  personage  was  not  only 
grave-faced,  she  was  good-looking,  beautiful  indeed, 
and  quite  youthful  enough  to  be  called  a  girl,  albeit 
she  was  taller  as  she  sat  than  the  man  beside  her. 

Milford  had  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  profoundly  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  gentle,  friendly  greeting,  as 
much  on  account  of  the  high  respect  and  admiration  he 
had  for  the  old  gentleman  as  in  response  to  a  quick 
but  sedate  glance  from  the  young  lady's  dark-blue 
eyes. 

''  I  shall  be  very  glad,  indeed,  to  hear  Dr.  Liberalis," 
said  he,  "  and  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you.  Dr.  Wilton, 
for  informing  me  of  the  lecture,  though,  frankly 
speaking,  I  have  no  patience  whatever  with  the 
so-called  woman's  rights  movement." 

Dr.  Wilton  smiled  and  turned  his  fatherly  eyes  upon 
his  companion  in  the  phaeton,  who  was  now  regarding 


50  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

Milford  with  the  look  of  one  having  something  to  say, 
without  the  right  to  say  it. 

"  My  daughter  is  somewhat  inclined  to  take  the  other 
view,  I  believe,"  the  old  man  demurely  said ;  then,  as 
if  he  had  suddenly  discovered  something  of  import- 
ance, he  added,  apologetically : 

"•  Why,  I  believe  you  have  never  been  introduced  to 
my  daughter,  Mr.  Milford.     She  has  been  away." 

He  proceeded  to  make  a  formal  introduction ;  so 
extremely  formal,  indeed,  that  the  two  young  persons 
smiled  a  little  more  than  is  usual  upon  such  occasions. 
Milford  doffed  his  hat  again  and  did  not  fail  to  note 
what  beautiful  teeth  Miss  Wilton  showed  when  she 
spoke. 

"  We  meet  as  enemies,  Mr.  Milford,  I  am  sorry  to 
know,"  she  said,  with  not  the  least  touch  of  any  thing 
but  pleasantry  in  her  voice.  **I  refuse  to  give  any  aid 
or  comfort  whatever  to  those  who  combat  the  progress 
of  women  toward  the  highest  freedom." 

"  I  beg  a  truce  with  a  view  to  an  unconditional  sur- 
render on  my  part,"  he  lightly  replied.  "  I  could  never 
be  a  hero  in  such  a  war  as  you  suggest." 

"  It  is  hinted,"  said  Dr.  Wilton,  "  and  I  fancy  that 
there's  some  force  in  the  hint,  that  Dr.  Liberalis  has 
come  here  for  the  purpose  of  trying  to  influence  our 
college  in  the  interests  of  those  who  wish  to  see  us 
adopt  the  system  of  co-education — that  is  to  persuade 
us  to  admit  young  ladies  into  our  classes." 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  5 1 

"And  my  father  thinks  that  the  thing  would  be 
a  calamity  as  dreadful  as  St.  Bartholomew's  Day  or  the 
Lisbon  earthquake,"  Miss  Wilton  exclaimed,  her  voice 
modulated  to  the  gentlest  respectfulness  when  she 
mentioned  her  father,  and  rippling  into  an  almost 
merry  tone  as  she  made  the  comparison. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  Marian,"  rejoined  the  old  man, 
"but  it  is  hard  for  me  to  see  any  merit  in  the  propo- 
sition, aside  from  any  consideration  of  the  awful  effect 
that  a  flock  of  uncontrollable  young  misses  would  have 
upon  the  staid  character  of  our  school." 

"Oh,  dear!  it  must  have  been  a  bevy  of  very  rude 
girls,  indeed,  that  put  the  old  cow  in  the  chapel  pulpit 
the  other  Sunday  !  "  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh  ;  "  and 
what  a  naughty  lass  it  was  who  put  your  overcoat  and 
hat  on  the  transit  tripod  and  labeled  the  improvised 
^^%y  :  '  Old  Sweetness^  with  the  added  explanation  : 
*  That  is  to  say,  his  honey  is  good,  but  his  wax  is 
treacherous  ! '    Oh,  these  girls  are  veiy  demoralizing  !  " 

Dr.  Wilton  laughed  retrospectively,  and  Milford's 
college  memories  helped  him  to  appreciate  the  force 
of  the  young  woman's  allusions. 

"At  all  events,  you  will  come  to  the  lecture,"  said 
the  old  man,  as  if  to  close  the  interview,  "  the  subject 
will  be  sure  of  a  novel  and  interesting  discussion." 

"Yes,  I  will  come,"  Milford  answered,  "  and,  so  far 
as  the  co-education  of  sexes  goes,  I'm  not  sure  but 
that  I  shall  favor  the  lecturer's  views." 


52  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  exclaimed  Miss  Wilton^ 
and  there  was  a  considerable  show  of  genuineness  in 
her  manner  as  she  continued,  "  I  do  hope  you'll  help  us 
in  our  darling  scheme.  We  want  to  write  inter  sylvis 
academi  on  our  cards,  as  freely,  and,  if  we  like,  as  un- 
grammatically, as  the  young  gentlemen  do  on  theirs." 

The  old  pony's  head  had  been  turned  by  this  time, 
and  the  little  equipage  trundled  off,  leaving  Milford  to 
go  his  way.  He  walked  on,  his  step  somewhat  the 
lighter  after  the  conference,  and  it  was  with  some  diffi- 
culty that  his  thoughts  struggled  back  to  the  discussion 
of  his  business  prospects.  Miss  Wilton  had  made  no 
definite  impression  upon  him  ;  still  there  lingered  a  very 
pleasing  sense  of  her  free,  fresh  grace  of  manner  and 
speech,  together  with  the  suggestion  of  force  and  earn- 
estness that  lay  below  her  half-bantering  tone  and 
words.  Perhaps  he  felt  brightened  and  encouraged  in 
a  degree  by  the  cheerfulness  and  good-comradeship  of 
the  father  and  daughter. 

Dr.  Wilton  was  the  president  of  the  college  at  Bank- 
ersville,  a  Presbyterian  institution,  known  far  and  near 
as  a  quiet,  wholesome,  well  regulated  school  for  young 
men,  a  school  which  had  been  besieged  for  some  years 
by  certain  enthusiasts  bent  upon  turning  it  into  a  univer- 
sity open  to  both  the  sexes.  Milford,  who  was  himself 
a  Presbyterian,  had  sought  the  acquaintance  of  Dr. 
Wilton  soon  after  coming  to  Bankersville,  and  had 
found  the  old  gentleman  a  most  genial  as  well  as  con- 


A    BANKER   OF  BANKEKSVILLE,  53 

genial  friend.  He  had  heard  the  daughter,  Miss  Marian 
Wilton,  spoken  of  frequently,  but  never  in  a  way  to 
excite  his  imagination  or  even  his  curiosity.  In  fact 
he  had  been  led,  in  some  way,  to  think  of  her,  when  he 
thought  of  her  at  all,  as  a  mere  child,  too  old  to  be 
petted  and  too  young  to  be  interesting.  Still,  it  is  a 
fact  that  a  bright,  earnest  girl,  rarely  fails,  when  she 
crosses  the  field  of  a  young  man's  vision,  to  leave  a 
pleasurable  disturbance  of  some  kind.  Possibly  Milford 
was  peculiarly  susceptible  or  receptive  just  then,  being 
in  the  transition-state  leading  from  a  species  of  despair 
to  a  broad  sense  of  relief  if  not  of  hopefulness.  Miss 
Wilton  did  not  vanish  entirely  from  his  mind,  even  when 
he  again  took  up  the  thread  of  his  business  relations. 

When  he  reached  the  office  he  found  a  considerable 
change  in  the  arrangement  of  things.  The  furniture 
had  been  shifted  a  great  deal,  so  that  the  room  looked 
strange.  Lawson  was  in  conversation  with  an  angular, 
nervous  man  whom  Milford  recognized  at  once  as  a 
leading  banker  and  speculator,  but  with  whom  he  was 
not  acquainted. 

''  Mr.  Milford,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr.  McGin- 
nis,"  said  Lawson,  "  Mr.  Milford,  my  partner,  Mr. 
McGinnis,  of  the  Farmers*  National  Bank." 

While  the  gentlemen  were  shaking  hands  Lawson 
stood  by  rubbing  his  palms  together  and  smiling  in  a 
bland,  satisfied  way. 

*'  I  brought  Mr.  McGinnis  up  to  show  him  our  oflfice, 


54  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

and  I  told  him  we  wanted  to  get  acquainted  with  all 
the  leaders  of  business  in  Bankersville,"  he  went  on  to 
say.  "  Of  course  you  know  that  Mr.  McGinnis  stands 
at  the  head  of  the  list.  Not  that  we  can  hope  for  any 
fees  from  him — knows  too  much  law  himself  for  that, 
but  his  influence  is  magical." 

Singularly  enough  Mr.  McGinnis  received  this  rather 
broad  and  arid  flattery  with  evident  relish  and  as  food 
he  was  used  to. 

'*  I  may  be  able  to  throw  something  in  your  way,  gen- 
tlemen/' he  said  with  the  air  of  one  quite  sure  of  his 
power  and  its  value.  *'  I  have  a  way  of  controlling  a 
good  many  strings  of  business."  He  took  a  cigar  from 
an  open  box  on  a  desk.  "You  begin  on  a  good 
brand,  Mr.  Lawson,"  he  continued,  "but  I  guess  you'll 
be  able  to  keep  up  to  it." 

"  Oh,  the  best  is  quite  good  enough  for  me,"  Law- 
son  lightly  exclaimed,  "  I  am  easy  to  suit  when  I  get 
what  I  want." 

The  banker  laughed  and  looked  at  Milford,  who  did 
not  appear  much  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the 
occasion. 

"  Let  me  give  you  young  men  some  good  advice," 
Mr.  McGinnis  said,  in  the  course  of  a  short  conversa- 
tion which  followed.  "  Mr.  Lawson  must  be  the  active, 
working  member  of  the  firm,  while  Mr.  Milford  sits  in 
the  office  and  looks  wise.  That's  the  way  to  rope  them 
in  and  fasten  them,  ha  !  ha  !  ha!  " 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  55 

"Just  my  idea,  exactly,"  exclaimed  Lawson,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  banker's  shoulder.  *'  You're  up  to  all 
the  latest  fashions,  Mr.  McGinnis." 

Milford  did  not  relish  all  this ;  he  felt  something 
almost  repulsive  in  the  atmosphere,  and  yet  both  Law- 
son  and  McGinnis  wore  the  look  of  honesty,  and  their 
conversation  seemed  too  light  to  be  considered  in  any 
estimate  of  character. 

When  the  banker  was  gone,  Lawson  seated  himself 
in  Milford's  easy-chair,  leaned  back,  and  with  his  feet 
crossed  on  the  top  of  the  desk,  smoked  very  deliber- 
ately. Evidently  he  was  pleased  with  himself.  *'Well, 
how  do  you  like  my  way  of  beginning?"  he  inquired, 
looking  up  into  Milford's  rather  somber  face  with  a 
broad,  genial  smile,  but  with  no  sign  of  really  desiring 
an  answer  to  his  question.  Indeed,  he  appeared  to  have 
settled  the  matter  in  his  own  mind.  Blowing  a  cloud 
of  smoke  back  over  his  head,  he  added  :  "  We'll  be  a 
popular  firm,  from  the  word  go,  see  if  we  won't.  The 
editor  of  the  Scar  will  be  up  presently  to  interview  me. 
I've  got  that  arranged.  Nothing  like  the  press,  you 
know.  And,  best  of  all,  I'm  going  to  take  Miss  Crabb 
to  the  lecture  this  evening  ;  she's  the  new  reporter,  you 
know,  come  here  a  few  days  ago  from  Ringville  to  take 
a  place  on  the  News.  Oh,  trust  me  to  advertise  !  "  He 
slapped  his  heavy,  shapely  leg  as  he  finished  and 
laughed  merrily. 

Milford  looked  at  him  half  annoyed  and  half  aston- 


56  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSV ILLE. 

ished,  but  there  was  an  undercurrent  of  admiration  in 
his  feelings  as  well.  What  superb  self-confidence  this 
young  fellow  had,  and  how  easily  he  was  beginning  a 
career!  Milford's  mind  naturally  exaggerated  the 
effect  of  Lawson's  rapid  advance  in  the  direction  of 
giving  eclat  to  the  new  law  firm  ;  it  was  as  if  clients 
were  already  knocking  at  the  door ;  and  yet  he  felt  a 
heavy  reserve  of  protest  against  this  broad  assumption 
of  personal  importance  by  his  partner.  When,  after  a 
while,  the  editor  of  the  Scar  came  in,  with  his  shrewd 
face  diVid pince-nez  eye-glasses,  to  hold  the  interview, 
and  Lawson  boldly  asserted  that  the  new  firm  was  the 
best  equipped  of  all  the  firms  in  Bankersville  for  doing 
a  large  and  successful  practice,  and  that  already  it  was 
"  forging  to  the  front,"  Milford  was  astounded  as  well 
as  mortified  ;  but  the  editor  took  his  notes  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  way,  asking  a  question  now  and  then,  with  the 
evident  purpose  of  making  the  outcome  of  it  all  a  most 
taking  advertisement,  and  without  any  show  of  sus- 
pecting that  Lawson  was  in  the  least  given  to  romance. 

''  That's  cheap  at  ten  dollars,"  the  young  man  ex- 
claimed, turning  to  Milford  when  the  editor  was  gone  ; 
"  the  country  people  all  read  the  Scar.  We'll  rope 
them  in,  as  McGinnis  said,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  You  speak  as  if  our  of^ce  were  a  gambling  den,  or 
a  deadfall  of  some  sort,"  said  Milford.  "  I  don't  fancy 
the  comparison." 

'*  It  all  goes  to  the  same  tune  of  '  rope  them  in, ' " 
responded  Lawson  with  a  coarse,  loud  laugh. 


M 


IV. 


ILFORD  went  back  to  Mrs.  O'SIaughtery's 
boarding-house  for  supper,  notwithstanding  his 
determination  to  remove  his  luggage  to  a  hotel,  and 
it  was  with  unusual  care  that  he  dressed  himself  for 
the  lecture.  Not  that  he  was  inclined  to  attach  much 
importance  to  the  occasion  or  to  the  matter  of  his 
clothes  ;  it  was  as  if  he  intuitively  foresaw  that  his 
life  was  going  to  begin  afresh,  as  it  were,  with  some 
new  element  added  to  its  substance.  It  is  not  often 
that  a  man  is  permitted  to  note  so  sudden  a  change  in 
the  tide  of  his  experience  as  this  which  Milford  now 
fancied  he  felt.  True  he  was  of  a  very  imaginative 
temperament,  much  more  a  poet  than  a  lawyer,  in  fact, 
so  far  as  mere  bent  of  mind  could  go,  but  Lawson  had 
been  a  genuine  realistic  revelation  to  him  of  how  easy  it 
is  for  some  men  to  gather  up  with  one  swift  reach  of  the 
hand  the  beginnings  of  a  career,  and  whilst  he  felt  a 
pang  of  humiliation,  as  he  acknowledged  his  own  sud- 
denly borrowed  impetus,  he  caught  ^something  of  the 
exhilaration  of  movement  after  his  long  and  dis- 
tressing inactivity.  Dressing  himself  with  con- 
scientious care  this  evening  was  a  part  of  the  new 
order     of     things,    an     involuntary     recognition     of 


58  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

the  change  in  his  worldly  prospects.  How  strange  it 
is  that  nearly  all  the  so-called  smiles  of  fortune  are 
rooted  in  something  very  like  self-abasement  to  the 
recipient  of  the  precious  light  those  smiles  irradiate! 
Personal  advancement,  that  is,  the  projection  of  one's 
self  beyond  one's  acknowledged  limitations,  in  so 
many  instances  is  at  the  cost  of  giving  up  some 
principle  by  which  one  has  long  been  safely 
guided.  Below  the  satisfaction,  or  rather  the 
charm  of  any  sudden  victory  in  our  worldly  strug- 
gle, there  lurks  a  sense  of  some  unworthy  element 
which  has  entered  into  our  life  to  disturb  our  enjoy- 
ment of  our  winnings. 

Milford,  while  he  did  not  see  how  he  had  trans- 
gressed any  moral  statute  or  any  ethical  tradition^ 
nursed  a  certain  sense  of  not  having  held  on  to  his 
high  standard  of  personal  dignity.  He  felt  that  he 
had  surrendered,  in  some  way  not  noble  or  wholly 
worthy,  his  superiority,  his  individual  birthright  of 
precedence  in  this  dicker  with  Lawson,  and  yet  he 
grasped  with  the  clearness  of  prophecy  that  it  had 
opened  a  new  field  of  life  to  him,  which,  if  he  would 
enter  it,  would  yield  him  a  fortune.  Not  that  he 
viewed  Lawson  as  some  splendid  genius  come  to 
crown  him  with  sudden  success ;  it  was  the  insight,  if 
but  a  glimpse,  which  Lawson's  irrepressible  young 
Americanism  had  given  him  of  the  methods  by  which 
meteor-like  notoriety  and  swiftly-heaped  fortunes  are 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  59 

compassed.  Already  he  saw  how  certain  of  his  dearest 
scruples  would  have  to  be  abandoned  and  how  his  old- 
fashioned  rules  of  life  would  have  to  be  repealed  before 
he  could  grasp  the  success  after  which  Lawson  was 
going  to  clutch  so  vigorously.  Perhaps  he  foresaw  that 
Lawson  was  destined  to  lead,  in  fact  as  well  as  in 
name,  the  business  operations  of  the  new  firm,  and 
that  by  this  means  the  young  enthusiast  was  to  become 
in  a  large  degree  the  shaper  of  his,  Milford's,  destiny 
Of  course,  all  this  belonged  to  that  state  of  mind  which 
follows  relief  from  a  great  strain,  and  which  precedes 
the  reforming  and  rearranging  of  the  lines  of  life. 
Milford's  outlook  had  been  so  gloomy  and  despair  had 
been  averted  in  so  unexpected  a  way  at  the  very  last 
moment  that  he  viewed  his  turn  of  luck  as  almost  mi- 
raculous, and  was  inclined  to  magnify  its  possible  mean- 
ing and  promise,  as  well  as  to  exaggerate  the  enormity 
of  its  moral  cost  in  the  loss  of  dignity  and  self-respect. 
It  had  been  his  purpose  and  hope  when  he  opened  a 
law  office  in  Bankersville,  to  obtain  a  practice  in  his 
profession  by  force  of  his  legal  learning  and  qualifica- 
tions, and  he  had  not  thought  of  the  possibility  of 
failure,  until  failure  had  in  fact  come  to  him,  along 
with  the  discovery  that  success  in  the  world  depends 
more  upon  what  he  had  heard  vulgarly  called  "  cheek," 
than  upon  high  intellectual  attainments  and  a  dignified 
course  of  action. 

He  went  to  hear  the  lecture,  and  found  it  trite,  illog- 


6o  A  B  A  NICER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

ical  and  full  of  the  tricks  long  since  made  stale  by 
demagogues.  Lawson  was  there  with  Miss  Crabb,  to 
whom  he  paid  more  attention  than  he  did  to  the 
speaker.  Milford  noticed,  however,  that  Miss  Crabb, 
who  was  a  tall,  rather  angular,  but  vivacious  blonde, 
did  not  allow  the  occasion  to  pass  without  making  a 
great  display  of  note-taking.  Her  fingers  appeared  to 
be  surprisingly  nimble. 

Dr.  Wilton  was  conspicuous  in  the  audience,  on 
account  of  his  fine,  benevolent  face  and  wealth  of 
snowy  beard.  His  daughter  sat  beside  him,  appar- 
ently absorbed  in  the  lecture,  and  Milford  wondered 
if  it  were  possible  for  a  young  woman  of  her  evidently 
clear  and  well-trained  mind  to  be  interested  in  so 
transparent  a  tissue  of  platitudes.  He  could  not  help 
glancing  at  her  whenever  the  speaker  advanced  some 
well-worn  sophism  clothed  in  threadbare  phrasing,  to 
see  if  he  could  detect  in  her  face  any  evidence  of  dis- 
gust or  weariness,  but  her  clear,  grave  eyes  made  no 
sign,  and  her  firm,  sweet,  half-pouting  lips  retained  their 
beautiful  composure  throughout  the  reading.  Some- 
thing in  her  air,  and  in  her  perfect  equilibrium  of  pose, 
affected  him  with  an  obscure  sense  of  her  superior 
qualities  of  character.  It  was  as  if  she  were  undergo- 
ing with  superb  fortitude  the  test  of  torture.  At 
least  his  imagination  sought  this  rather  unromantic 
solution  of  the  fascinating  enigma  she  appeared  to 
him.     He  felt  sure  that  she  could  not  acknowledge 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  6 1 

herself  in  accord  with  this  narrow  zealot's  broken 
screed  of  unreason,  no  matter  how  earnestly  she 
might  adhere  to  the  larger  doctrines  of  the  "  woman's 
rights  "  philosophy,  and  yet  her  face  gave  no  evidence 
of  dissent ;  her  eyes  were  on  the  speaker's  face,  and 
her  delicately-modeled  ears  appeared  to  take  in,  with 
very  earnest,  if  not  eager  attention,  every  word  of  the 
long,  florid  sentences.  Miss  Crabb  seemed  to  think  of 
the  lecture  merely  as  an  occasion  for  getting  some- 
thing to  print  in  the  News,  without  any  reference 
whatever  to  its  actual  merits,  and  Milford  was  con- 
scious of  a  doubt  as  to  which  was  the  more  agreeable 
to  him.  Miss  Wilton's  perfect  poise  of  attention  and 
possible  interest,  or  the  nervous  reporter's  fussy  bursts 
of  note-taking.  And  yet  his  eyes  returned  and 
returned  many  times,  to  rest,  for  the  moment  that 
politeness  permitted,  on  Miss  Wilton's  fine  head  and 
graceful  shoulders. 

When  at  last  the  lecture  was  over,  Milford  made  his 
way  out  of  the  room,  oppressed  with  a  very  unsatis- 
factory state  of  mind.  In  a  sort  of  large  vestibule  he 
found  Miss  Crabb  introducing  Lawson  to  Dr.  Wilton 
and  his  daughter.  It  seemed  that  Miss  Crabb  had 
been  acquainted  with  the  doctor  from  her  childhood, 
though  she  had  come  but  recently  to  Bankersville. 

*'  Mr.  Lawson  has  just  assumed  the  lead  in  a  law- 
firm  just  established  here,"  she  was  rapidly  saying, 
"  and  I  am  prophesying  his  quick  and  brilliant  success." 


62  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  I  certainly  wish  you  success  in  your  noble  profes- 
sion, Mr.  Lawson,"  Dr.  Wilton  gravely  said,  much  in 
the  tone  of  a  professor  speaking  to  a  juvenile  student, 
holding  the  lawyer's  hand  for  a  moment. 

**  Thank  you,"  said  Lawson,  bowing  with  that 
peculiar  half  grace  of  his,  the  smile  on  his  smooth 
face  accentuating  the  pleasing  dimple  in  the  center  of 
his  chin.  ''  I  shall  make  a  rousing  effort  to  realize  your 
kind  hope,  and,  frankly,  I  feel  perfectly  sure  of  myself." 

"  Oh,  he  takes  his  place  with  all  the'  aplomb  and 
audacity  of  genius,"  exclaimed  Miss  Crabb.  *'  He 
undoubtedly  is  one  of  the  irrepressible  young  men  of 
our  day." 

Milford  passed  on  into  the  open  air,  leaving  the 
group  behind,  just  as  Miss  Wilton  was  saying  some- 
thing to  Lawson,  who  was  regarding  her  with  frank 
admiration  and  pleasure  beaming  from  his  eyes.  The 
people,  after  streaming  out  of  the  chapel  doorway, 
straggled  off  in  groups  along  the  many  diverging 
paths  of  the  college  campus  among  the  dim  shadows 
under  the  trees.  The  moon  was  on  high  and  shining 
with  great  power,  but  its  light  was  so  broken  by  the 
lace-work  of  boughs  and  the  mingled  tassels  and 
young  spring  leaves  that  it  barely  tempered  to  the  eye 
the  gloom  of  the  wide  grove.  Milford  walked  slowly, 
enjoying  the  woodsy  freshness  of  the  night  air  while 
indulging  irrelevant  reflections  upon  the  lecture  and 
its  surroundings.     Presently  Lawson  and  Miss  Crabb, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  63 

going  very  fast,  passed  him  just  as  he  was  about  to 
emerge  from  the  campus  into  the  street. 

"  Oh,  she  is  just  charming^'*  Miss  Crabb  explained, 
in  her  rapidest  manner, ''  and  she  is  so  intellectual,  too, 
and  so  well-read  ;  she  has  a  mind  like  a  man's." 

"  She  is  superbly  beautiful,  as  well,"  remarked  Law- 
son.  "  I  never  saw  such  beautiful  eyes.  I  dare  say 
she  is  an  exceptionally  intelligent  young  woman." 

*'  Yes,  she  is,"  said  Miss  Crabb.  *'  She  has  just 
returned  from  a  finishing  course  in  a  Boston  school 
and  a  tour  abroad.  She  is  well  rounded."  Miss 
Crabb  uttered  this  last  phrase  with  an  emphasis  sug- 
gestive of  its  wealth  of  meaning. 

"  Ah,  indeed,  there  is  where  I  saw  her.  I  felt  sure 
I  had  seen  her  before  to-night,"  Lawson  exclaimed  ; 
"  it  was  in  Venice,  I  recollect  now." 

"Oh!  you  have  been  in  Europe,  have  you,  Mr. 
Lawson  ?     Why,  I  shall  add  that  to  my  news  items." 

*'  Yes,  I  squandered  my  little  patrimony  in  foreign 
travel,"  he  responded,  ''but  you  needn't  print  that. 
It's  the  oats  that  I'm  going  to  sow,  not  the  crop  I  have 
reaped  already,  that  I  want  to  be  judged  by." 

"  Certainly,  I  understand  that  very  well ;  you 
wouldn't  be  a  man  if  you  were  willing  for  the  whole 
truth  to  be  known  about  you,"  said  Miss  Crabb,  with 
the  utmost  complacency,  '*  but  your  wishes  shall  be 
respected  ;  your  carousals  in  London  and  your  short- 
comings in  Paris,  and " 


64  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  Mercy  !  please  stop,"  he  exclaimed,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  '*  these  trees  may  have  ears !  " 

She  laughed  a  little  at  his  dramatic  simulation  of 
concern  ;  indeed,  she  may  have  suspected  that  his  acting 
had  a  modicum  of  genuine  reality  in  its  composition. 

"  She  passed  me  on  one  of  those  famous  bridges  in 
Venice,"  he  said,  resuming  a  thought  which  he 
seemed  to  relish,  **  and  I  have  never  seen  her  since 
until  this  evening.  Nor  had  I  ever  seen  her  before 
that  meeting.  Strange,  but  we  recognized  each  other 
at  once ;  I  am  sure  it  was  mutual." 

"  Romance,"  exclaimed  the  reporter,  almost  gayly ; 
"  a  genuine  bit  from  Jane  Porter  or  Ann  Radcliff.  I 
may  print  that,  mayn't  I  ?  " 

'*  Not  for  the  world — the  whole  world,"  said  he. 
**  My  past  must  be  a  sealed  book,  a  dreadful  mystery, 
for  a  young  lawyer  can't  afford  the  luxury  of  a  record. 
Let  me  start  like  one  of  those  whirlwinds  generated 
on  a  dry,  hot  day,  rushing  from  nowhere  forth  upon 
my  chosen  career." 

He  spoke  rather  grandiloquently  and  in  a  bantering 
way,  but  Miss  Crabb,  who  delighted  in  catching  at 
remote  suggestions,  fancied  that  what  he  said  was  not 
wholly  in  jest.  Furthermore,  she  allowed  her  imagi- 
nation to  perceive  a  touch  of  incipient  tenderness  in 
his  version  of  the  momentary  meeting  on  the  storied 
bridge,  and  of  the  instantaneous  recollection  of  it  by 
the  actors  a  little  while  ago. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  65 

"  Bankersville  needs  a  whirlwind  or  two,"  she  pres- 
ently replied.  "  There  never  was  a  town  so  staid  and 
stagnant ;  it's  a  great,  big,  sweet,  unruffled  Presbyterian 
pool,  and  every  day  is  Sunday  in  its  neighborhood." 

''Never  mind,  I'll  stir  it  to  its  bottom  and  raise 
such  waves  as  its  shores  never  have  felt,"  he  rejoined, 
as  if  coming  back  to  himself  from  distant  thoughts. 
"  I  see  great  possibilities  in  the  situation  and  sur- 
roundings." 

*'  I'm  glad  you  do,"  she  said.  "  Enjoy  the  fancy 
while  you  can.     The  bubble  will  burst  soon  enough." 

''  Like  the  great  soldier,  I  come  led  by  the  star  of 
destiny  and  attended  by  the  god  of  battles,"  he  said, 
turning  upon  her  his  clear,  strong  eyes,  and  laughing 
a  little  as  he  spoke.  **  You  need  not  fear  for  my 
bubbles  ;  they  defy  even  the  breath  of  fate." 

Milford  heard  a  part  of  this  conversation,  then 
walked  slower,  to  avoid  hearing  more.  He  had 
scarcely  reached  the  street  when  Dr.  Wilton  and  his 
daughter  came  up  to  his  side  in  the  full  flood  of  moon- 
light; their  home  was  but  a  few  steps  away.  He 
walked  with  them  as  far  as  the  gate,  where,  as  they 
paused,  the  doctor  said  : 

"  Did  you  ever  before  chance  to  hear  such  stuff?  " 

Milford  stole  a  furtive  glance  at  the  young  woman, 
but  she  was  very  composed  and  was  quietly  smiling 
upon  her  father. 

**  I  should  think,"  the  young  man  answered,  "  that 


66  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

the  lecturer  was  not  in  his  happiest  mood  this  evening. 
We  are  all  subject  to  '  off  *  periods,  when  every  thing 
refuses  to  serve  our  turn." 

"  Shouldn't  you  feel  better  to  be  quite  frank  and 
outright,  Mr.  Milford,"  said  the  young  woman,  "  and 
say  that  you  have  been  listening  with  prejudiced  ears 
and  in  an  unreceptive  temper?" 

"  Daughter,  daughter,  you  shouldn't  put  things  offen- 
sively," Dr.  Wilton  chided.  "  You  are  too  enthusiastic." 

''  After  all,"  Milford  hastened  to  say,  "  I  fear  I  am 
guilty  as  charged  by  Miss  Milford.  I  did  go  to  the 
lecture  prejudiced  and  stiff-necked,  and  came  away 
still  more  so." 

She  laughed  as  one  who  returns  to  amiability  with 
a  child's  whole-heartedness,  and  with  the  ring  of  per- 
fect sincerity  in  her  voice  said  : 

*'  It  must  be  too  late  for  you  to  come  in  with  us  to 
have  our  quarrel  out  now,  but  my  father  and  I  shall 
expect  you  to  call.  Sometimes  I  don't  ride  my  hobby, 
and  am  not  at  all  disagreeable." 

Milford  left  them  with  the  feeling  troubling  him, 
that  in  some  way,  this  clear-eyed,  earnest  girl  was  going 
to  get  a  hold  on  his  mind.  He  was  not  so  young  that 
he  did  not  understand  what  this  might  mean.  On 
the  contrary,  he  acknowledged  to  himself  with  candor 
that  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  love  her. 

He  went  into  his  office  to  smoke  before  going  to 
Mrs.  O'Slaughtery's,  but  his  contemplative  mood  was 


A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  67 

broken  up  by  Lawson,  who  came  in  with  some  busi- 
ness schemes  to  talk  over. 

*'  I  just  now  heard  that  the  city  council  has  no  attor- 
ney," the  young  man  exclaimed,  making  a  plunge  at  the 
cigar  box.  "  Miss  Crabb  told  me,  in  fact,  and  it  strikes 
me  that  I  ought  to  be  able  to  get  the  appointment." 

"  Well,  even  if  you  could  get  it,"  Milford  responded, 
**  the  business  is  all  petty  and  annoying  and  the  salary 
is  a  mere  trifle." 

Lawson  drew  down  his  brows  in  a  thoughtful  way, 
and,  without  noticing  Milford's  objections,  added  : 

"  I'll  try  to  see  McGinnis  soon  in  the  morning ;  I 
think  he  might  manage  it  for  me." 

"  It  isn't  worth  while,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Lawson," 
urged  Milford.     *'The  office  is  a  barren  one." 

"  Barren  lands  are  sometimes  full  of  ore.  Possibly  I 
might  find  the  gold.  I  make  bold  to  say  that  the  office 
of  city  attorney  of  Bankersville  can  be  made  a  very 
honorable  and  a  very  lucrative  one,"  Lawson  replied ; 
"  but  the  old  motto  :  first  catch  your  carp,  etc.,  is  to 
be  kept  in  mind." 

Milford  did  not  say  any  thing  further,  and  Lawson 
remained  thoughtful  for  a  while.  Presently,  with  a 
flash  of  enthusiasm  in  his  face  the  latter  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  exclaimed : 

"  There  are  possibilities  in  this  scheme  worth  a  hard 
struggle.  1*11  have  that  appointment  if  the  thing  is  at 
all  within  my  power." 


BANKERSVILLE  was  an  Indiana  town,  but  it  did 
not  differ  from  other  towns  of  the  older  western 
states  on  that  account.  It  may  have  had  eight  or  ten 
thousand  population,  rather  less  than  more,  and  it  had 
wide  streets,  clean  side-walks,  beautiful  homes  and 
many  long  lines  of  maple  trees.  Notwithstanding  Miss 
Crabb's  charge  that  it  was  stagnant,  it  was  thrifty, 
**  stirring,"  and,  to  a  degree,  rich.  For  a  few  years  last 
past  Bankersville  had  experienced  what  is  indefinitely 
called  a  healthy  growth  in  both  its  business  strength 
and  its  general  outward  appearance  of  prosperity.  It 
had,  in  fact,  fallen  swiftly  into  city  ways  and  was  begin- 
ning to  indulge  in  certain  luxuries  peculiar  to  centers 
where  culture  and  extravagance  go  familiarly  hand  in 
hand.  It  was  noted  for  two  things  above  all  others,  its 
college  and  its  banks,  indeed  the  banks  were  so  numer- 
ous and  so  prosperous  that  one  might  have  fancied  a 
connection  between  this  fact  and  the  name  Bankers- 
ville ;  but  the  record  showed  a  different  origin  for  the 
appellation,  a  derivation  from  the  cognomen  of  an  illit- 
erate farmer,  Jere  Banker,  who  had,  about  the  year 
1830,  donated  the  plat  upon  which  the  lately  built  and 
really  handsome  brown  stone  court-house  now  stood, 


A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  69 

and  it  may  be  added  that  this  same  Jere  Banker,  long 
before  he  died,  had  seen  his  entire  farm  swallowed  up 
in  the  growth  of  the  town.  All  the  country  around 
Bankersville  was  extremely  fertile  and  under  high  culti- 
vation, so  that  one  might  drive  for  miles  in  any  direc- 
tion, over  some  one  of  the  many  fine  gravel  roads,  be- 
tween broad  fields  and  always  in  sight  of  big  red  barns 
and  comfortable  farm-houses.  It  was  a  region  of  corn, 
wheat,  oats,  blue-grass,  fat  cattle  and  rotund  hay-stacks, 
as  well  as  a  paradise  of  healthy  brown-faced  youths 
and  rosy-cheeked,  bouncing  lasses.  This  fat  land  fed 
Bankersville  and  made  it  grow  and  thrive.  No  large 
city  was  very  near,  so  that  this  fortunate  town  ruled, 
with  more  or  less  tyranny,  over  a  space  much  wider 
than  the  county  of  which  it  was  the  seat  of  justice. 
People  liked  the  place.  Visitors  came  and  bore  away 
its  praises  into  distant  quarters  of  the  country. 
Nomads  of  the  press,  those  optimistic,  opal-eye- 
glassed,  always  welcome  correspondents,  wrote  long 
letters  to  the  metropolitan  newspapers  describing  the 
maple  groves,  the  tasteful  homes  and  the  literary  aspi- 
rations of  Bankersville,  until  the  name  Boston  of  the 
west  came  to  be  something  more  than  a  mere  joke. 

The  population  of  Bankersville  had  been  influenced 
to  a  considerable  degree,  by  the  rigid  morals  and  excel- 
lent teaching  of  the  college  whose  beginnings  as  an 
institution  had  been  contemporaneous  with  the  found- 
ing of  the  town.     The  aristocracy  of  the  place,  such 


7©  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

aristocracy  as  it  was,  very  naturally  had  been  from  the 
first  mailed  with  Presbyterian  armor  and  actuated  by 
clean  and  pure  motives.  College  Hill,  as  that  quarter 
of  the  town  near  the  park-like,  densely-shaded  campus 
was  called,  was  that  part  of  the  town  which  first  gave 
evidence  of  a  dawning  prosperity  by  the  building  of 
certain  plain  but  decidedly  spacious  and  comfortable 
houses,  the  homes  of  the  professors.  These  particular 
homes,  together  with  the  stately  college  pile  and  the 
forty  acres  of  campus,  remained  the  chief  objects  of 
interest  in  Bankersville  long  after  it  was  known  as  a 
city,  and  to  them  were  directed  all  visiting  strangers. 
Indeed,  Bankersville  folk  wore  their  honors  with  a  com- 
placency and  outward  humility  that  covered  a  deal  of 
pride.  The  strictest  among  them  scarcely  demurred 
when  the  phrases  "  Boston  of  the  West,"  and  ''  the 
Hoosier  Athens,"  were  politely  bandied  around,  phrases, 
by  the  way,  that  made  the  mayor  and  common  council 
feel  bound  to  give  a  literary  flavor  to  certain  occasional 
ordinances  and  proclamations.  The  college  had  sown 
broadcast  a  taste  for  polite  learning  to  an  extent  that 
had  generated  a  smack  of  genuine  culture,  so  that  a 
few  Bankersville  people  went  so  far  as  to  pronounce 
such  words  as  calm,  half,  cant,  laugh,  etc.,  with  the 
sound  of  a  in  father  ;  but  of  course  the  final  g  was 
snubbed  and  the  subjunctive  mood  remained  uncon- 
querable. 

Liberality  is  an  excellent  word,  and  it    might    be 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  7 1 

applied  in  its  most  liberal  sense  to  Bankersville,  for 
the  little  city's  broad  streets,  wide  grassy  lawns,  its 
cleanliness,  its  home-like  homes  and  its  substantial 
fences  were  nothing  if  not  indicative  of  the  hearts  of 
the  people.  Munificent  liberality,  too,  had  been 
bestowed  upon  the  college  by  rich  men,  until  now  the 
corporation  was  possessed  of  some  millions  in  excel- 
lent funds.  Nor  was  the  city  body  much  behind  that 
of  the  college  in  financial  condition  ;  it  was  out  of  debt 
and  had  a  large  surplus  in  the  treasury;  therefore,  when 
Lawson  with  the  aid  of  McGinnis  got  the  office  of  city 
attorney,  it  was  an  honorable  if  not  a  pecuniarily  prof- 
itable one.  The  eclat  with  which  the  young  man 
flung  himself  into  the  vacant  place  was  a  clever  bit  of 
advertising,  which  did  not  fail  to  fetch  good  returns. 
Men  began  at  once  to  drop  into  the  office  of  Lawson  & 
Milford  with  this  or  that  question  of  law  or  of  fact, 
touching  the  corporate  affairs.  Many  young  lawyers  of 
Bankersville  maligned  and  vilified  themselves  for  not 
having  seen  this  opportunity,  which  Lawson  had  so 
brilliantly  turned  to  his  account.  They  failed  to  under- 
stand that  it  was  the  man  who  had  lent  force  to  the 
chance,  and  not  the  reverse. 

Lawson  was  much  talked  of  because  he  made  food 
for  talk.  He  spent  much  time  in  the  streets  seeking 
the  acquaintance  of  leading  men  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  taxing  his  memory  with  faces  and  names,  nor 
did  he  neglect  any  of  the  public  meetings  in  the  "  out 


72  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

townships,"  no  matter  what  their  nature.  He  was 
not  an  orator,  but  he  could  talk  very  well  before  a 
crowd  and  he  made  friends  easily. 

At  first  those  lawyers  who  chiefly  controlled  the  busi- 
ness of  Bankersville  were  strongly  inclined  to  speak 
humorously  of  Lawson's  pretensions,  but  somehow 
this  humor  was  short-lived  ;  success  compelled  respect, 
and  then  his  manner  of  dealing  with  men  was  so  frank, 
and  he  had  such  an  open  face  and  such  a  hearty,  tak- 
ing voice,  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  like  him. 
Every  body  looked  upon  him  as  upon  a  brilliant,  pre- 
cocious boy,  so  much  did  his  smoothly-shaven  face 
and  tender  complexion  overcome  the  effect  of  his 
mature  stature  and  of  his  evident  knowledge  of  the 
world.  This  delusion,  or  illusion,  was  greatly  in  his 
favor,  for  the  American  people  have  a  passion  for 
helping  young  fellows  who  are  smart  and  clever,  espe- 
cially if  they  are  "  fine-looking,"  that  is,  of  strong  phy- 
sique and  of  courageous  bearing.  Avoirdupois  is  quite 
as  essential  to  the  average  senator  as  intellectual 
strength ;  and  a  suave  manner  is  as  valuable  as  the 
most  liberal  education  to  the  ambitious  young  Ameri- 
can. Youth,  of  itself,  goes  for  more  in  our  country 
than  it  goes  for  anywhere  else  upon  the  earth.  Let  it 
be  known  that  a  genius  is  mature  and  the  effect  will 
be  to  deaden  public  interest  in  its  doings.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  promise  of  youth,  the  morn- 
ing freshness  of  achievements  by  beardless  heroes  and 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  73 

budding  heroines  takes  all  the  land  by  storm,  espe- 
cially if  the  callow  genius  have  a  rumor  of  personal 
beauty  as  its  supplement  and  auxiliary.  The  stage, 
the  forum,  the  rostrum,  the  *' stump  "  (that  American 
platform  so  fast  rotting  away)  and  the  pulpit,  give 
their  finest  victories  to  youth  and  beauty  ;  personal 
magnetism  is  the  phrase  and  that  means  animal 
force. 

Lawson  may  have  foreseen  some  of  the  advantages 
that  he  was  to  reap  from  his  appointment  to  the  city 
attorneyship,  but  it  would  be  making  too  broad  a  state- 
ment to  say  that  he  even  dreamed  of  what  a  wide  field 
it  would  open  to  him.  He  did  clearly  understand  that 
the  feeling  in  favor  of  public  improvements  was  deep- 
ening rapidly  in  Bankersville  and  he  saw,  in  a  con- 
fused way,  the  possibilities  connected  with  a  full  treas- 
ury and  a  people  anxious  for  the  money  to  go  into 
schemes  for  the  glory  and  prosperity  of  the  city;  but 
the  mass  of  his  thoughts  in  this  connection  was  chaotic 
enough.  Milford  felt,  with  a  satisfaction  never  before 
experienced  by  him,  how,  day  after  day,  and  week  after 
week,  signs  of  a  prosperous  practice  appeared  in  the 
law  office.  By  degrees  the  sense  of  an  indirect  self- 
abasement  in  the  matter  faded  out,  or  fell  behind  the 
knowledge  that  he  at  last  was  coming  to  his  own,  and 
he  began  to  assert  himself  in  the  questions  of  business 
that  arose  in  the  course  of  affairs.  He  was  a  much  bet- 
ter lawyer  than  Lawson  and  a   far  more   graceful   and 


74 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 


fluent  orator ;  but  Lawson  took  the  lead  and  kept  it 
by  sheer  force  of  tact  and  enterprise. 

One  day  near  the  middle  of  summer,  a  time  when 
many  of  the  lawyers  were  off  on  vacation  tours,  Law- 
son  came  in  to  the  office,  smoking  as  usual,  and  began 
talking  about  a  scheme  before  the  common  council  for 
the  building  of  a  city  water-works. 

"  I  am  opposed  to  the  whole  thing,  from  beginning 
to  end,"  said  Milford,  with  a  promptness  and  decision 
that  made  his  partner  open  wide  his  clear  blue  eyes. 
"  It's  a  job  of  the  most  dangerous  kind." 

Lawson  pondered  a  moment,  then,  with  a  quick 
gleam  of  satisfaction  in  his  face,  said  : 

"  Well,  perhaps  it's  well  enough  for  one  of  us  to  op- 
pose the  measure  while  the  other  supports  it.  It  will 
show  up — "  he  stopped  short  and  pondered  again. 
"Oh,  for  that  matter,"  he  continued,  "we  needn't  care 
much  about  it.  It  will  affect  us  very  little.  Upon  the 
whole,  you'd  better  stay  out  of  the  discussion  alto- 
gether. It  might  hurt  our  practice ;  besides  my  official 
connections  render  it  a  very  delicate  subject  to  us." 

Milford  felt  aglow  of  resentment  pass  over  him,  but 
he  made  no  reply  until  he  had  fully  mastered  the  feel- 
ing, and  even  then  he  merely  said  : 

"You  can  not  afford  to  have  any  thing  to  do 
with  it." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,"  exclaimed  Lawson,  laughing 
lightly  and  shrugging  his  shoulders  with  an  assuring 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  75 

motion.  "I'll  be  on  the  inside  or  nowhere,  and — "  he 
hesitated  a  moment  before  adding :  "  in  the  lead  or 
not  turning  a  wheel." 

Milford  did  not  feel  justified  in  giving  the  worst  in- 
terpretation to  Lawson's  words,  and  yet  he  could  not 
wholly  repress  the  disgust  that  arose  in  his  heart  for 
what  they  seemed  to  imply.  He  looked  steadily  into 
the  young  man's  eyes  and  said  : 

"  Of  course,  water-works  can  be  built  without  any 
jobbery,  but  I  don't  think  they  will  be  in  this  instance, 
therefore  I  do  not  think  our  firm  can  afford  to  touch 
the  subject." 

"  Oh,  no,  our  firm  must  steer  clear  of  the  whole 
thing,"  responded  Lawson,  "  you  are  quite  right.  Be- 
sides, there's  nothing  for  us  to  do,  as  lawyers,  in  that 
connection.  It's  a  mere  business  affair  between  the 
city  council  and  the  water-works  contractors.  Oh,  you 
keep  out,  it's  no  place  for  you." 

"  I  don't  need  your  advice,  but  I  shall  act  upon  it, 
nevertheless,"  said  Milford  in  as  light  a  voice  and  man- 
ner as  he  could  command,  "  and  you  might  profit  by 
my  example." 

At  this  point  some  one  entered  the  office ;  Lawson 
sprang  up,  with  a  profuse  show  of  delight,  to  welcome 
Mr.  McGinnis.  *'Come  into  the  other  room,  here,"  he 
said,  after  a  word  or  two  of  greeting,  "  Milford  will  ex- 
cuse us."  He  took  the  banker  by  the  arm  and  they 
turned  toward  the  door  of  a  consultation-room. 


76  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

McGinnis  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  and  laugh- 
ingly said  : 

*'  We  are  going  to  plot  treason,  rebellion  and  all 
other  terrible  things  that  a  good  man  like  you  doesn't 
approve  of." 

Milford  did  not  relish  the  humor  any  more  than  he 
liked  the  secrecy  at  which  it  openly  hinted.  He  did 
not  fully  understand  how  McGinnis,  a  strict  member  of 
the  church,  could  dare  to  enter  into  a  scheme  to  rob 
the  city,  and  yet  he  felt  that  something  of  the  sort  was 
but  poorly  hidden  in  the  plotting  now  going  on.  A 
right-minded  man,  who  has  seen  a  great  deal  of  the 
business  world,  is  quick  to  discover  the  badges  of 
sharp-dealing  and  of  doubtful  moral  purpose. 

The  consultation  between  McGinnis  and  Lawson 
was  a  long  one,  at  the  end  of  which  they  left  the  office 
together,  and  Lawson  returned  no  more  that  day. 

Milford  had  been  invited  to  take  tea  at  Dr.  Wil- 
ton's, where  he  should  meet  a  young  man  who  was 
beginning  a  very  promising  literary  career,  and  whose 
name  had  been  tossed,  with  flattering  accompani- 
ments, from  newspaper  to  newspaper,  for  some 
months,  and  whose  new  book  had  reached  its  twen- 
tieth edition.  This  young  man,  Arthur  Selby,  was  a 
distant  kinsman  of  Dr.  Wilton,  a  second  cousin,  per- 
haps, and  had  just  returned  from  a  long  course  of 
study  in  Germany.  It  was  a  matter  of  some  interest, 
Milford  thought,  to  meet  such  a  person,  and  he  was 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE,  77 

not  at  all  prepared  to  see  a  little  round-shouldered, 
pudgy  fellow,  whose  face  was  rather  dull  and  heavy, 
and  whose  air  was  that  of  a  blase  dry-goods  clerk.  He 
had  almost  to  stoop  in  order  to  shake  hands  comfort- 
ably with  this  famous  young  novelist,  and  he  felt  a 
sense  as  of  a  sudden  lesion  affecting  the  high  admira- 
tion he  had  hitherto  given  the  literary  calling,  to  think 
that  this  was  the  man  who  had,  by  a  single  wave  of 
his  hand,  as  it  were,  changed  the  public  taste  and 
made  romance  take  the  place  of  realism.  He  cer- 
tainly did  not  look  like  a  writer  of  romance,  with  his 
somewhat  bald  head,  his  common  place  eyes  and  his 
square-set  jaws,  to  say  nothing  of  his  spectacles  with 
their  slender  gold  claws  hooked  over  his  rather  large 
ears. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Milburn,"  the  author  said,  not  quite  able 
to  get  Milford's  hand  and  name  at  the  same  effort, 
"  you  are  an  ex-confederate  soldier,  I  believe — a  colo. 
nel,  of  course." 

"  Milford,  not  Milburn,  is  my  name.  No,  I  can  not 
claim  the  military  title,"  said  Milford,  "  and  I  do  not 
consider  my  connection  with  the  rebel  army  a  subject 
of  any  present  interest." 

*'  Perhaps  your  view  is  the  best  possible,  Mr.  Mil- 
ford," Selby  promptly  replied,  with  a  sort  of  apology 
in  his  perfectly  modulated  voice.  "  It  is  the  now  and 
the  future  that  should  concern  us,  not  the  past.  I  am  a 
good  deal  of  a  neologist,  I  train  with  the  young  school." 


78  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

*'  There  are  so  many  young  schools,"  said  Miss  Wil- 
ton, "  one  must  be  an  expert  to  keep  free  of  all." 

"  I  shouldn't  care  to  avoid  any  one  of  them,"  Selby 
responded.  "  Every  new  thing  adds  a  little,  at  least, 
to  the  sum  of  progress.  I  feel  this  more  sensibly  with 
every  day  I  spend  here  in  the  West.  What  a  wide- 
awake, free-for-all,  go-as-you-please  society  you  have  !  " 

*'  But  our  society  isn't  any  thing  of  the  sort,"  said 
Miss  Wilton,  with  that  rare  blending  of  earnestness 
and  sweetness  in  her  voice  which  never  fails  to  make 
one  forget  that  a  controversy  is  in  hand.  "  Our  soci- 
ety is  not  free-for-all,  nor  is  it  go-as-you-please,  in  the 
least.  If  that's  the  mistaken  view  you  start  out  with, 
your  forthcoming  romance  of  western  life  will  be 
absolutely  worthless." 

Selby  laughed  merrily,  his  eyes  lighting  up  and  his 
whole  face  for  a  moment  giving  forth  a  flash  of  the 
genius  that  was  in  him. 

"  You  can't  frighten  me  in  that  way,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  My  romances  don't  depict  life  as  it  is,  but  as  I  think 
it  should  be  in  order  to  make  it  dramatic  and  interest- 
ing. You  forget  that  I  am  a  romancer  and  yet  I  am 
one  of  the  realists." 

"  I  don't  like  you  on  that  account,"  said  Miss  Wil- 
ton. *'  This  world  is  no  place  for  romance  of  any  sort ; 
it  is  a  matter-of-fact  world,  a  world  in  which  men's 
chief  concern  should  be  to  be  honest,  earnest,  indus- 
trious and  to  get  on.     What's  the  use  of  romance?" 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  79 

Milford  was  looking  at  her  as  she  spoke,  and  he 
saw,  beyond  her  light  manner  and  half-chaffing  tone, 
the  real  earnestness  with  which  she  enunciated  her 
doctrine.  He  recognized  on  the  instant,  too,  how 
much  her  way  of  putting  it  resembled  Lawson's. 
This  high  valuation  of  success  for  its  own  sake,  this 
emphasis  on  the  importance  of  business,  of  affairs,  oi 
getting  on,  set  him  at  once  to  thinking  of  the  burden 
of  Lawson's  every  word,  phrase,  thought  and  desire. 
He  involuntarily  ran  his  eyes  over  her  fine  form  and 
clear-cut,  energetic  features  with  a  swift  acknowledge 
ment  of  something  akin  to  disappointment. 

"  I  have  been  telling  Miss  Wilton  that  she  ought  to 
be  a  stock  speculator,  or  at  the  very  least,  a  banker, 
she  is  so  very  matter-of-fact  and  financial,"  said  Selby, 
turning  to  Milford.  "  I  am  sure  she  would  soon  make 
a  decided  success." 

"  I  am  going  to  be  a  lawyer,"  she  quickly  inter- 
posed, "I  am  reading  now." 

"  You  shock  me,"  exclaimed  the  author,  with  a 
simulation  of  surprise.  "  Going  into  the  profession  of 
dishonesty!     You  will  be  a  failure  ;  you  can't  do  it." 

"Be  careful,  Mr.  Milford  is  a  lawyer,"  she  said. 
"  He  might  object  to  your  sweeping  phraseology." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Milford.  ''  It's  an  old  piece  of 
stage  property.  The  lawyers  are  scarcely  willing  to 
forego  the  luxury  of  being  mildly  persecuted  by  those 
who  make  fiction  a  purpose  in  life." 


8o  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"Good!"  cried  Selby,  almost  gleefully,  "that's  a 
capital  slap  back,  and  I  deserve  it.  I  can  safely  rely 
on  myself  for  getting  into  ridiculous  situations.  I 
thank  you  for  the  rebuke." 

Milford  could  distinguish  a  certain  quality  of  polite- 
ness in  Selby  which  seemed  to  have  its  root  in  a  genu- 
inely good  heart,  a  quality  which  tempered  the 
author's  egotism  down  to  the  consistency  of  a  humor 
almost  jolly.  He  felt  a  little  glow  of  liking  for  this 
small,  plump,  self-possessed,  unassuming  and  yet  all- 
assuming  man,  take  the  place  of  an  unfavorable 
impression.  The  author's  attitude  was  evidently  that 
of  a  person  standing  outside  the  world  and  watching 

"  With  an  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine," 

an  attitude  by  no  means  critical,  or  fault-finding,  but 
simply  that  of  intense  though  playful  analysis. 

The  door-bell  rang,  and  Miss  Wilton,  following  the 
hospitable  western  custom,  went  to  answer  it  herself. 
She  soon  re-entered  with  Miss  Crabb.  The  latter 
glanced  around  the  little  parlor  with  the  comprehensive 
swiftness  caught  from  her  profession.  When  her  eyes 
met  those  of  Selby  she  almost  started,  her  surprise  was 
so  strong.  Evidently  she  had  been  expecting  to  see 
an  Adonis  or  an  Apollo  and  she  was  thrown  entirely 
off  her  guard.  Live  literary  lions  were  not  to  be  met 
often  in  Bankersville,  however,  and  she  must  be  content 
even  with  the  ridiculously  little  one  now  before  her. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  8 1 

"  I  have  known  you,  Mr.  Selby,  in  the  pleasantest 
way,  perhaps,  that  it  is  possible  for  one  person  to  know 
another,"  she  began,  "  your  book,  that  charming  me- 
dium of  introduction,  has  made  us  friends  already. 
You  saw  my  critique  of  it  in  the  Neivs,  I  suppose.  Of 
course  I  couldn't  do  it  or  myself  justice  in  so  small  a 
space,  but  I  tried  not  to  slight  the  subject.  You  didn't 
mind  my  saying  that  your  women  are  insipid  ?  " 

"■  Oh,  I  don't  ever  mind  such  a  thing,  it  makes  me 
feel  comfortable,"  he  said,  "  insipid  women  are  so  rare 
that  I  consider  them  desirable.  It  was  very  kind  of 
you  to  say  that ;  but  I  must  acknowledge  that  I  never 
read  critiques  under  any  circumstances.  It's  too  much 
like  witnessing  a  mild  form  of  autopsy.  Upon  the 
whole,  book  reviews  are  nonsense,  mere  stuff." 

**  You're  too  frank,  too  ingenuous.  Critics  are  as 
fond  of  being  read  and  appreciated  as  the  novelists  are. 
I  shall  demolish  your  next  book,"  she  retorted. 

Milford  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  speak  a  word 
or  two  with  Miss  Wilton,  when,  after  tea  was  over, 
they  lingered  awhile  in  the  cozy  little  library.  She 
touched  a  stout  legal-looking  volume  on  a  table  and 
said  that  it  was  her  especial  object  of  study  now.  He 
looked  and  saw  that  it  was  Blackstone's  commentaries, 
then  lifted  his  eyes  to  hers  with  an  almost  impatient 
glance.  She  understood  his  feeling  and  arching  her 
brows  gave  the  book  a  little  push. 

"You  don't  approve,"  she  said,  "but  why?     Surely 


82  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

it  is  a  clean  and  honorable  profession.  It  can  not  hurt 
me." 

He  looked  steadily  into  her  eyes  and  saw  something 
there  that  thrilled  him  strangely.  She  stood  up  strong 
and  self-reliant  before  him,  a  superbly  beautiful  woman, 
and  he  felt  the  force  of  her  will  as  unmistakably  as  he 
felt  the  power  of  her  beauty.  Her  eyes  fell  before  his, 
presently,  and  just  the  faintest  blush  suffused  her 
cheeks. 

"  I  am  determined  to  show  the  world  that  I  can  do 
it,"  she  added. 

"  May  I  help  you?"  ne  asked.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to 
give  you  any  assistance  in  my  power.  Suppose  you 
let  me  be  your  legal  preceptor  ?  " 

She  colored  a  little  more,  but  looked  into  his  face 
again  without  any  confusion  and  said  : 

**  I  already  have  a  teacher.  Mr.  Lawson  is  giving 
me  lessons." 

But,  despite  her  calmness,  there  was,  or  Milford 
fancied  it,  just  a  touch  of  preference  in  her  expression, 
as  if  she  regarded  Lawson  as  the  more  competent  per- 
son. She  may  have  guessed  his  thought,  for  she 
dropped  the  subject  at  once  and  turning  into  a  little 
bay-window  put  aside  the  curtain.  Through  a  panel 
of  glass  a  fine  view  of  the  moonlit  valley  of  the  Wabash 
appeared,  framed  in  like  a  picture  by  the  black  walnut 
mullions.  In  the  middle  distance  the  river  wound 
lazily,   fringed   with   a   scattering  growth    of   ghostly 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  83 

plane-trees  and  divided  by  gleaming  sand-bars.  The 
suburban  houses  of  Bankersville  further  down  the 
valley  clung  along  the  bluffs  overlooking  the  wide, 
fertile  fields  of  "  bottom  "  land  now  dotted  with  golden 
shocks  of  wheat. 

"  Mr.  Selby  says  this  is  the  most  charming  view  this 
side  of  Italy,"  she  remarked,  standing  aside  to  let 
Milford  look.  ''  He  flatters  us  a  great  deal,  I  think. 
He  is  a  very  close  and  curious  observer." 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  literary  atmosphere 
of  Bankersville  was  perceptibly  troubled  by  the  coming 
of  Arthur  Selby,  whose  visit,  a  mere  resting  moment 
of  his  flight  across  the  continent,  ever  afterward  would 
be  looked  back  to  with  complacent  pride  by  the 
dwellers  on  College  Hill.  Selby  himself  appeared 
wholly  unaware  of  being  a  lion,  but  he  made  it  contin- 
ually obvious  that  he  was  a  novelist  and  that  novel- 
writing,  or  rather,  romance-writing,  was  all  important 
to  the  whole  world.  He  makes  no  figure  in  our  story 
and  I  drop  him  forthwith,  asking  the  reader  to  keep 
in  mind  the  probability  that  such  a  character  as  Selby, 
with  the  prestige  of  his  fame,  might  have  left  lingering 
in  the  air  of  Bankersville  an  influence  which  may 
account  for  some  slight  literary  tendencies  hereafter 
traceable. 

'*  I  should  think  his  occupation  a  thoroughly  delight- 
ful one,"  said  Milford,  catching  something  of  Miss 
Wilton's  respect  for  the  novelist's  fame  ;  "  it  must  give 


54  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

him  a  freedom  as  large  as  his  desire.  Now  the  law  i« 
different ;  it  is  narrow,  stationary,  rigid  and  dry." 

*'  I  am  surprised  to  hear  you  say  that  about  your 
chosen  business,  your  life  vocation,"  she  quickly,  almost 
resentfully  exclaimed  ;  "you  are  not  serious,  I  hope?  ' 

**  Yes,  I  am  very  serious,  indeed.  Tell  me  what 
genuine  prize  is  open  to  the  lawyer,  will  you  ?  "  He 
spoke  lightly,  almost  indifferently,  but  she  felt  the 
undercurrent  of  his  sincerity. 

**  Fame,  fortune,  a  high  social  career,  official  life — 
every  thing  !  "  she  said  in  a  low,  earnest  tone,  her  voice 
perceptibly  affected  by  a  sudden  enthusiasm.  "The 
power  of  oratory,  the  consciousness  of  a  great  per- 
sonal influence,  the  ability  to  sway  a  people.  The 
prizes  are  innumerable  and  priceless  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence,  while  he  gathered  to- 
gether some  sweet  impressions  of  her  fine  womanly 
strength  and  of  her  singularly  fascinating  intensity  of 
character  set  behind  a  calm,  almost  classic  face. 

"  What  is  the  mere  story-writer's  calling,  his  fame, 
his  possibilities,  as  compared  with  what  may  lie  in 
your  career?  The  comparison  falls  flat — it  fills  me 
with  something  stronger  than  impatience  to  think  of 
it!" 

She  said  this  with  evident  repression  of  a  deeper 
feeling  struggling  in  her  heart,  a  feeling  having  its 
source  in  her  ambition. 

"  Oratory  is  charming,  as  you   exemplify  it,"  he  re- 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  «5 

sponded,  "  but  I  haven't  the  gift  ;  besides,  the  ground 
has  all  been  worn  into  lifeless  sterility  ;  the  day  is 
passed  when  eloquence  counted  for  any  thing." 

"■  You  are  chafifing,  you  are  not  in  earnest.  I  under- 
stand what  you  are  trying  to  do,  but  I  shall  not  be 
driven  from  my  purpose,  or  let  my  enthusiasm  cool  in 
the  least." 

**  You  jump  to  a  conclusion,"  he  exclaimed,  laugh- 
ing. **  I  would  not  discourage  you  if  I  could.  Haven't 
I  offered  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  am  too  suspicious  of  you,"  she  said, 
almost  merrily.  "  I  retract  it  all.  I  am  glad  you  are 
willing  for  me  to  be  a  lawyer." 

"  But  I  am  not  willing,"  he  gently  urged,  ''  I  am 
simply  withdrawing  from  the  unequal  discussion." 
Then  he  returned  to  the  thought  of  Selby's  great  and 
easily-won  success  as  an  author. 

'*  It  is  a  shame  in  fact,"  said  Miss  Wilton.  *'  Think 
of  an  Eastern  man,  a  Yankee,  running  through  Indi- 
ana at  a  gallop,  so  to  speak,  and  then  rushing  back  to 
Boston  or  New  York  to  write  a  novel  of  Western  life  ! 
What  will  Mr.  Selby  know  of  Bankersville  and  its  peo- 
ple after  a  three  days'  sojourn  here?  Only  yesterday 
I  read  in  a  Washington  newspaper  that  a  celebrated 
novelist  of  Boston  was  staying  for  a  week  at  Willard's, 
and  that  in  the  course  of  an  *  interview '  he  had  said 
that  he  had  been  getting  together  the  material  for  a 
novel  of  Washington  social  and  political  life.     Think 


S6  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

of  it !  A  week  at  a  hotel  and  then  a  great  realistic 
presentation  of  society  at  our  national  capital !" 

Milford  laughed,  and  she  continued  with  suppressed 
vehemence  : 

*'  How  can  a  man  be  content  with  having  his  fame 
rest  upon  such  a  basis?  I  should  scorn  to  be  a  little 
fiction-scribbler  if  I  were  a  man  !  "  She  was  silent  a 
moment,  then  added :  "  I  like  personal  force,  direct- 
ness, truth.  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  a  diminutive 
— a  feminine — a — you  know  what  I  mean — a  success- 
ful little  person  who  does  nothing  large." 

"  You  don't  like  the  analysts  in  fiction,  then  ?  " 

"  No.  Think  of  a  man  making  it  his  business  in  life 
to  write  those  silly  kettle-drum  reports  of  fashionable 
life,  and  then  think  of  a  Pitt,  or  a  Webster,  or  a  Napo- 
leon !  " 

She  involuntarily  glanced  across  the  room  at  Selby 
with  a  sudden,  half-scornful  impatience.  Milford's 
eyes  followed  her  gaze,  and  there  flashed  into  his  mind 
a  sharp  realization  of  her  meaning.  Selby  looked  very 
little  like  an  ideal  man  and  the  basis  of  his  fame  cer- 
tainly was  slight,  seen  from  Miss  Wilton's  point  of 
view.  For  a  moment  literary  distinction  took  on  a 
very  unattractive  aspect. 

"A  novelist,"  observed  Miss  Wilton  in  a  lighter 
tone,  "  is  not  a  great  man,  no  matter  how  famous — he 
is  little  and  trivial  at  best." 


VI. 

THERE  was  an  element  in  Milford's  life  and 
experience,  fortunately  rare  in  the  lives  of  men, 
which  troubled  him  a  great  deal,  and  sometimes 
appeared  to  him  an  insurmountable  barrier  to  his  prog- 
ress toward  success.  When  the  facts  of  this  expe- 
rience are  placed  before  the  reader,  as  I  now  purpose 
to  place  them,  in  their  most  simple  conditions,  he  may 
judge  for  himself  what  effect  they  might  produce  in  a 
life  set  within  American  limitations  and  amid  the 
influences  left  over  from  our  great  sectional  war. 
Milford  had  been  reared  and  educated  in  Georgia,  his 
parents  having  migrated  thither  from  Virginia,  and  he 
had  entered  the  Confederate  army  in  1862,  at  the  age 
of  seventeen.  Not  long  after  becoming  a  soldier  the 
impression  began  to  grow  in  his  mind  that  he  was 
fighting  on  the  wrong  side.  Naturally  a  thoughtful, 
earnest,  conscientious  youth,  this  impression,  as  it 
matured  into  conviction,  troubled  him  greatly.  In  his 
heart  the  feeling  that  he  was  lending  himself  to  treason 
without  the  excuse  of  believing  himself  justified  by 
circumstances,  was  supplemented  by  his  discovery  of 
a  widening  of  his  sympathy  with  the  spirit  of 
abolitionism,  a  spirit  which  he   had  been   taught  to 


88  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

look  Upon  as  an  abomination.  His  predicament 
rapidly  became  torturing,  for  on  one  side  were  his 
mother  and  father,  his  sisters  and  all  the  sweet  endear- 
ments of  a  cultured  and  elegant  home  life;  on  the 
other  the  stern  call  of  conscience  and  duty.  Nor  does 
this  statement  suggest  all.  He  was  fitted  by  nature 
to  be  a  daring  and  intrepid  soldier,  and  his  ambition 
called  him  toward  the  goal  of  a  military  hero.  He  felt 
the  impossibility  of  going  over  to  the  enemy  and 
fighting  against  the  South,  but  not  more  keenly  than  he 
felt  the  awful  turpitude  of  remaining  in  the  Confeder- 
ate army  and  battling  for  the  continuance  of  human 
slavery  and  for  the  destruction  of  his  country,  with  not 
even  the  ghost  of  a  conscientious  excuse  for  it.  More- 
over, the  question  continually  arose  in  his  mind  :  could 
he  desert?  There  seemed  to  be  an  element  of  man- 
hood that  recoiled  from  the  thought ;  then,  too, 
what  would  his  mother  and  father  and  sisters  say? 
Beyond  all,  and  deep  down  in  his  nature,  was  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  Southerner,  within  the  most  Southern 
meaning  of  the  word,  to  the  manner  born,  with  the 
chivalric,  fighting  impulse  left  as  a  hereditament  in  his 
blood  by  the  grant  of  a  long  line  of  proud  and  bellicose 
ancestors.  The  future  historian  must  not  overlook 
this  question  of  heredity  when  he  comes  to  treat  of  the 
causes  that  brought  about  the  great  war  between  the 
North  and  the  South ;  nor  must  he  fail  to  find  in  it 
that   fiery  cement  which    held   vast   armies   together 


M  BAl^KEn  CF  BANKERSVILLE,  89 

vjhare  father  was  against  son,  brother  against  brother, 

and  even  mother  against  child,  in  the  wild  struggle 
which  perfected  human  freedom  and  purged  the  con- 
science of  the  world.  In  the  case  of  an  individual, 
Milford,  for  instance,  heredity  would  have  its  special 
effect,  but,  after  all,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  how  tena- 
ciously it  would  linger  in  any  case,  even  after  a  pro- 
found conviction  had  destroyed  the  moral  support  its 
deep-seated  prejudices  had  leaned  upon.  Of  course 
there  would  be  no  trouble  on  the  score  of  actual  con- 
science, but,  unfortunately,  conscience  often  seems  to 
be  under  obligations  of  no  slight  sort  to  one's  affec- 
tions and  sentiments  and  to  that  subtle  law  of  one's 
nature  which  binds  one  to  home,  kindred  and  family 
tradition.  Milford  could  not  rid  himself,  in  those 
dark  days  of  carnage,  of  that  second  conscience  which 
urged  him  to  close  his  eyes  upon  the  questions  of 
patriotism  and  human  liberty,  and  to  hold  fast  to  the 
loyalty  of  a  son  to  his  parents  and  of  a  Southerner  to 
his  section.  Nevertheless,  his  higher  conscience  at 
last  prevailed,  and  he  abandoned  the  South  and  its 
army.  A  deserter?  Yes  and  no.  He  could  not 
choose  the  vulgar  deserter's  way  of  leaving  his  com- 
rades. True  to  a  romantic  notion  of  what  would  be 
the  brave  and  chivalrous  course,  he  one  morning  rode 
boldly  up  to  the  head-quarters  of  his  general,  and, 
making  his  salute,  handed  that  officer  a  small  package, 
saying  as  he  did  so  : 


go  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  General,  here  is  money  enough  to  pay  for  this 
horse  I  am  riding  and  for  these  arms  I  bear.  I  now 
take  leave  of  the  Confederacy  and  its  army.  I  have 
been  on  the  wrong  side  as  long  as  I  can  suffer  the 
thought,  and  I  shall  henceforth  be  governed  by  my 
conscience." 

With  another  salute  he  turned  and  rode  away,  put- 
ting his  powerful  horse  into  a  wild  run. 

The  general  and  his  surrounding  officers  stood  in 
amazement,  watching  the  best  soldier  of  the  command 
tearing  off  in  that  mad  style. 

**  He's  drunk,  the  impertinent  scamp!"  said  the 
general  with  gruff  directness. 

*'  No,  I  saw  his  face,  and  I  know  him  too  well,"'  said 
a  staff  officer  ;   *'  he  meant  just  what  he  said." 

Quick  orders  were  given  and  swift  pursuit  was  made, 
but  Milford  escaped  and  found  his  way  to  the  North. 

His  daring  action  robbed  his  offense  of  its  cowardly, 
sneaking  element,  but  it  was  desertion,  all  the  same, 
in  the  eyes  of  his  family  and  friends,  and  it  was  unpar- 
donable, it  was  immitigable.  At  last  a  Milford  had 
disgraced  the  name.  What  followed  is  of  little  con- 
sequence to  our  history.  The  most  torpid  imagina- 
tion can  not  fail  to  construct  a  fair  outline  of  Milford's 
predicament.  He  had  fought  with  the  South,  that 
was  much  against  him  in  the  North,  even  after  the 
war  was  ended,  and  he  could  not  afford  to  have  it 
known  that  he  was  a  deserter,  though  of  the  most  con. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  9 1 

scientious  and  picturesque  sort,  for  there  is  something 
in  the  thought  of  desertion  which  suggests  the  most 
contemptible  character  and  the  most  cowardly  man  in 
the  world.  To  have  been  a  rebel  was  bad,  but  to 
have  been  a  rebel  deserter  was  certainly  unpardonable. 
So,  while  Milford's  conscience  was  clear,  his  situation 
was  one  peculiarly  harassing  at  times.  He  could  not, 
with  proper  self-respect,  return  to  the  South,  and  there 
was  much  to  annoy  him  in  the  treatment  he  received 
at  the  hands  of  the  Northern  people.  Not  that  any- 
body tried  to  persecute  him,  but  being  looked  upon  as 
an  ex-rebel,  he  often  had  to  meet  rebuffs  and  hin- 
drances on  that  account.  I  have  said  that  his  con- 
science was  clear ;  this  does  not  mean,  however,  that 
he  was  free  from  those  mental  falterings  natural  to  one 
in  his  situation.  Often  enough  he  upbraided  himself 
for  what  he  had  done,  and  tried  to  reason  to  the  con- 
clusion that,  after  all,  patriotism  is  fulfilled  when  one 
fights  for  the  flag  that  is  over  one.  It  means  a  good 
deal  for  a  man  to  give  up  his  parents,  his  sisters,  the 
home  of  his  childhood  and  the  country  of  his  fore- 
fathers for  conscience'  sake  ;  but  it  means  a  great  deal 
more  when  to  his  exile  is  added  a  sort  of  necessary 
disgrace,  in  his  own  eyes,  and  an  unutterable  abase- 
ment in  the  eyes  of  those  for  whose  love  and  confi- 
dence he  would  give  the  most. 

Here,  then,  was  the  secret  source  of  Milford's  almost 
morbid  sense  of  isolation,  as  it  was  also  the  cause  of 


92  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

his  failure  to  make  his  way  in  his  profession.  The 
little  patrimony  that  had  found  its  way  to  him  after 
the  death  of  his  parents,  had  barely  sufficed,  as  we 
have  seen,  to  put  him  into  his  law-office  with  a  fair 
library  and  nothing  to  depend  on  but  the  chances  of 
the  law  as  they  fall  to  a  dignified,  reticent  stranger  in 
a  wide-awake  Western  town.  It  is  probable  that  Mil- 
ford  was  too  much  inclined  to  attribute  his  failure  to 
get  business  solely  to  the  aversion  which  he  fancied 
these  Northern  people  felt  for  him  as  one  who  had 
been  a  Confederate  soldier.  The  truth  is,  he  had  been 
treated  with  great  kindness  by  the  few  persons  with 
whom  he  had  formed  an  acquaintance,  and  with  indif- 
ference, as  a  matter  of  course,  by  those  who  knew 
little  of  him. 

Since  Lawson  had  come  into  the  office,  however, 
Milford  had  seen  a  great  change  in  things.  He  made 
acquaintances  every  day,  and  among  the  acquaintances 
many  friends.  Clients  began  to  seek  the  services  of 
the  firm,  and  there  was  no  longer  a  doubt  as  to  its 
success  in  a  financial  way.  All  this  would  have  been 
quite  enough  to  satisfy  a  man  less  scrupulous  and  sen- 
sitive than  Milford.  Even  he  had  his  moments  of 
intense  satisfaction,  and  often  he  became  quite 
absorbed  in  his  professional  work  ;  but  he  could  not 
altogether  smother  the  feeling  that  his  connection 
with  Lawson  was  a  vulgar  and  debasing  one.  Again 
and  again  the  thought  came  to  him   of  how  the  part. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  93 

nership  had  been  forced  upon  him  by  his  condition, 
and  how  he  had  been  compelled  to  accede  to  all  of 
Lawson's  terms  through  sheer  coercion  and  under  the 
stress  of  humiliating  poverty.  It  seemed  to  him  at 
times  that  Lawson  had  acted  the  part  of  a  soulless 
trickster  in  the  whole  matter.  And  yet  he  could  not 
make  it  quite  plain,  reason  as  he  might,  that  the  young 
man  could  not  defend  himself  in  all  his  acts  on  honor- 
able business  grounds. 

Lawson  had  been  successful  with  his  scheme  for 
city  water-works,  and  while  there  were  rumors  of  a 
large  number  of  bonds  going  into  his  hands  as  his  part 
of  a  questionable  transaction,  there  was  no  proof  of 
the  fact  and  the  matter  was  hushed  up.  From  this 
time  on  McGinnis  and  Lawson  were  fast  friends,  the 
banker  appearing  to  have  discovered  rare  business 
qualities  in  the  young  man,  and  they  began  to  operate 
together  in  real  estate  schemes,  Lawson  doing  the 
active  work.  Nearly  all  the  law-business  proper  that 
came  to  the  office  Milford  attended  to,  willing  enough 
that  his  partner  should  be  on  the  street  and  away  on 
speculating  jaunts  with  McGinnis. 

As  for  Lawson,  conscious  of  the  power  he  was 
rapidly  acquiring,  and  enjoying  to  the  full  a  sense  of 
his  influence  in  Bankersville,  he  strained  every  faculty 
to  accelerate  his  popularity,  and  to  impress  the  public 
with  the  belief  that  he  was  growing  rich.  He  was  a 
*'  large,  handsome  fellow,"  according  to  the  reporter  of 


94  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

an  Indianapolis  paper,  who  interviewed  him,  and  he 
bore  about  him  the  air  of  perfect  self-reliance  which 
succeeds  with  the  populace.  His  companions  were,  for 
the  most  part,  bankers,  large  dealers  in  live  stock,  real- 
estate  men  and  curb-stone  brokers.  His  every  thought 
was  a  financial  one,  and  his  every  act  was  an  effort  to 
reach  money. 

'*  I  despise  little  gains,  I  hate  mere  wages,"  he  said 
to  Milford  one  day,  just  after  they  had  divided  a  small 
fee.  "  Life  is  like  a  dribbling,  drought-dwarfed 
stream,  under  such  limitations.  I  shall  never  be  con- 
tent until  money  comes  in  gushing  torrents,  pouring 
into  my  till  from  every  direction." 

"  Enormous  wages  usually  imply  dirty  work,  I  fear," 
Milford  rejoined.  *' Grand  fortunes  are  suggestive  of 
the  fool's  luck  or  of  the  knave's  audacity." 

Lawson  laughed,  fingering  a  heavy  gold  watch-seal 
he  was  lately  affecting  and  rolling  a  dark  cigar  from 
one  corner  of  his  mouth  to  the  other. 

"■  The  fools  and  the  knaves,  with  their  luck  and  their 
audacity,  appear  to  be  making  it  lively  for  the  world 
just  now,"  he  presently  said.  **  Wheat  is  giving  men 
fortunes  in  Chicago — prices  are  climbing  all  the  time." 
He  slapped  his  heavy  thigh  after  the  fashion  of  a 
financier  who  feels  his  prosperity  in  the  very  flesh  of  his 
limbs.  ''I'm  in  on  the  tide,"  he  went  on  to  say,  his 
smooth  face  all  aglow,  "  and  every  minute  is  coining 
money  for  me.     I  put  in  $2,000  last  week  and  have 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE,  95 

been  buying  every  day,  going  right  along  up  with  the 
market,  and  if  it  don't  break  on  me  between  now  and 
to-morrow,  I  shall  close  out  twenty  thousands  ahead." 

Milford  looked  at  him  with  open  doubt,  but  only 
for  a  moment.  He  saw  that  the  flush  on  the  young 
man's  face  was,  indeed,  the  speculator's  fever,  the 
unquenchable  hell-flame  of  the  gambler's  life. 

*'  I  hope  you  will  lose ;  it  is  your  only  chance  for 
future  safety,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  voice  expressive  of 
mingled  pity  and  disgust. 

''  I  take  my  chance,"  Lawson  remarked,  with  cool 
indifference  to  his  partner's  scruples.  "  Nothing 
venture,  nothing  gain." 

Milford  often  found  himself  thinking  of  Lawson  as 
of  a  brilliant,  self-conceited,  spoiled  boy,  a  big-hearted, 
ill-directed  youth,  drifting  toward  moral  ruin  ;  and  yet 
this  boy  was  but  one  year  his  junior  and  was  far  his 
superior  in  knowledge  of  the  world. 

Lawson  closed  out  the  wheat  deal  just  in  time ;  the 
market  broke  with  a  crash  a  few  hours  afterward, 
carrying  many  men  to  ruin.  The  news  of  the  young 
man's  luck  soon  got  abroad  and  it  was  strange  and 
instructive  to  note  how  his  sudden  impulse  toward 
wealth  lifted  him  in  the  regard  of  the  people  of  Bank- 
ersville.  He  did  not  try  to  conceal  his  own  pleasure 
in  the  fact  of  his  prosperity;  but  he  did  not  lose  his 
head.  He  turned  on  the  market,  selling  now  instead 
of  buying,  and  was  successful  again. 


g6  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

"  I'm  out  now,"  he  exclaimed,  coming  into  the  law- 
office  in  high  spirits,  *'  I've  hit  the  bulls  and  the  bears 
in  turn,  and  now  I  see  that  I'd  better  quit.  Thirty- 
seven  thousand  dollars  will  do  for  one  month." 

Despite  his  deep-seated  prejudice  against  all  sorts  of 
ganibling,  Milford  could  not  beat  back  a  rising  admira- 
tion of  Lawson's  pluck  and  equilibrium.  Success  is  a 
mighty  argument  and  the  successful  man  has  a  pres- 
tige that  overrides  a  legion  of  objections  to  the 
methods  he  has  used.  There  is  something  fascina- 
ting to  the  average  imagination  in  the  bold  force  and 
daring  of  genius,  even  if  it  be  an  outlaw  who  is  in 
question.  Superiority,  championship,  even  in  the 
prize-ring,  can  not  fail  to  elicit  a  certain  sort  of 
admiration. 

McGinnis  had  been  the  inspirer  of  Lawson  in  the 
direction  of  his  ventures  in  the  Chicago  market;  but 
his  success  had,  in  fact,  no  bottom  save  in  sheer  luck. 
He  had  chanced  to  go  in  with  the  flood  and  out  with 
the  ebb,  reaping  the  fullest  advantage  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  market.  But  he  was  cool  enough  and 
shrewd  enough  to  see  that  he  had  ridden  good-fortune 
far  on  toward  the  stumbling  point,  and  so  he  dis- 
mounted with  his  spoils  and  turned  his  eyes  in  other 
directions.  McGinnis  saw  this  evidence  of  what  he 
called  **level-headedness,"  and  was  more  than  ever 
impressed  with  Lawson's  ability  and  promise. 

**  He'd  make  his  mark  on  Wall  Street  right  now," 


A  BANKER  OF  BANK ERSVILLE.  97 

he  said  to  his  friends  ;  '*  that  young  man  is  a  prodigy, 
I  tell  you." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  whole  of  Lawson's  atten- 
tion became  absorbed  in  schemes  disconnected  from 
the  practice  of  the  law,  and  he  often  said  to  Milford 
that  he  might  consider  their  partnership  at  an  end 
whenever  he  should  see  proper. 

"  Of  course,  I  know  my  name  is  worth  a  good  deal 
to  the  office,  but  you  needn't  consider  that,"  he  said, 
"  act  for  your  own  best  interest,  Milford,  and  do  not 
take  me  into  account.  I'm  all  right  and  I  want  you  to 
do  the  very  best  you  can." 

His  manners  were  not  patronizing,  nor  did  he  affect 
superiority.  He  was  cordial,  earnest  and  outright; 
but  Milford  resented  a  certain  matter-of-course  indif- 
ference to  the  outcome,  which  he  fancied  was  observa- 
ble in  Lawson's  face.  Still  he  shrank  from  asserting 
this  resentment  by  a  rupture  of  the  partnership,  though 
he  would  not  have  acknowledged  that  he  was  consider- 
ing, even  remotely,  the  benefit  he  was  gaining  from 
the  mere  fact  of  Lawson's  popularity.  Such  a  benefit 
is  hard  to  realize  in  a  clear  way  and  hard  to  cast  aside 
out  of  mere  self-respect,  say  what  we  may. 

Lately  Milford  had  been  going  pretty  often  to  Dr. 
Wilton's,  where  he  always  found  himself  comforted  by 
the  quiet  atmosphere  of  that  indescribable  earthly  para- 
dise, a  happy  home.  Mrs.  Wilton,  a  gentle,  low-voiced 
little  woman  with  smooth  white  hair  and  a  pale  con- 


98  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

tented  face,  treated  him,  and  every  other  guest,  for  that 
matter,  with  a  beautiful  motherly  kindness,  and  the 
doctor,  whenever  free  from  college  duties,  was  a 
charming  host. 

It  was  restful,  after  the  annoyance  and  bother  of  a 
day's  legal  details,  to  find  himself  in  the  little  library 
with  Miss  Wilton,  even  if  she  did  occasionally  talk 
shop  and  air  a  few  of  her  newly-acquired  law  theories. 
Her  voice  was  soothing  and  her  enthusiasm,  always 
kept  well  in  hand,  was  infectious.  She  had  nothing  in 
her  air  or  ways  that  indicated  the  typical  strong- 
minded  woman,  but  there  was  a  suggestion  of  power 
in  her  attitudes  as  well  as  in  her  bright,  clear,  finely- 
chiseled  face. 

One  evening,  late  in  autumn,  Milford  called  and 
found  Lawson  already  there.  This  was  not  the  first 
time  that  the  gentlemen  had  met  in  this  library,  at 
about  this  hour  in  the  evening,  but  somehow  it  was,  to 
Milford  at  least,  a  very  unwelcome  occurrence.  Miss 
Wilton  had  met  him  at  the  door  with  the  usual  gentle 
and  charming  welcome  in  her  voice  and  eyes  ;  but  he 
had  quickly  observed  that  Lawson  was  sitting  in 
the  bay-window  overlooking  the  Wabash,  Milford's 
favorite  place,  and  close  by  him  stood  the  low 
chair  just  left  by  the  young  woman.  It  was  a  small 
matter,  but  it  filled  Milford's  soul  with  a  sudden 
pain. 

"Good-evening,"  exclaimed  Lawson,  "our  firm  is 


A    BANKER   OF  BAXKERSVILLE.  99 

ably  represented  upon  the  present  occasion.  I  claim 
the  close  in  the  argument,  however." 

*' You  are  inclined  to  put  in  that  claim  upon  any  and 
every  occasion,"  Milford  responded.  "  I'll  take  the 
matter  under  advisement." 

"  We  have  been  enjoying  the  fine  November  moon- 
light on  the  river,"  said  Miss  Wilton,  ''  it  is  magnifi- 
cent to-night." 

Milford  imagined  a  hint  of  apology  or  disclaimer  in 
her  voice,  though  she  returned  to  the  seat  near  Law- 
son.  There  was  a  bright  wood  fire  on  the  library 
hearth,  but  the  gas  had  not  been  lighted. 

Lavvson  was  dressed  with  scrupulous  care  and  was 
looking  his  best ;  a  fine  light  in  his  eyes  and  something 
in  his  air  that  suggested  supreme  satisfaction,  gave 
Milford  a  dull  shock.  With  an  effort  at  lightness,  he 
said  as  he  glanced  out  through  the  window : 

**  Yes,  a  very  tender  view,  but  have  I  blundered — 
have  I  destroyed  a  fine  passage  by  my  unopportune 
appearance?     I  offer  a  thousand  apologies." 

"  I  was  just  going  to  sing  for  Mr.  Lawson,"  she 
quickly  responded.  "  May  I  trouble  you  also  with  the 
infliction  ?  " 

*'  Nothing  could  please  me  more ;  I  have  never 
heard  you  sing."  He  followed  her  to  the  little  upright 
piano  and  stood  close  beside  her,  feeling,  at  the  same 
time,  a  fear  that  he  was  much  further  from  her  than 
was  Lawson,  over  there  in  the  window. 


lOO  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Her  voice  was  a  good,  clear,  honest  soprano,  not  over 
strong,  but  rich  and  flexible,  with  a  world  of  tender- 
ness in  it,  just  suited  to  the  simple  song  she  had 
chosen.  There  was  a  refrain  of  a  couplet  with  some 
covert  sentiment  in  it.  The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met 
once  during  the  singing  and  there  passed  between  them 
a  silent,  quick  exchange  of  a  common  thought,  each 
divining  the  other's  feeling,  each  suspecting  that  the 
other  was  on  the  vantage  ground. 

When  she  had  finished  singing,  Miss  Wilton  turned 
half  about  on  the  piano-stool  and  looked  up  at  Mil- 
ford,  whose  rather  somber  face  showed  strangely  under 
the  flicker  of  the  fire-light. 

**  I  always  feel  as  if  I  were  compromising  myself  a 
little  when  I  sing  in  the  presence  of — of  men,"  she  said 
with  a  bright  smile  ;  '*  they  always  appear  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  I  consider  singing  and  playing  on  the 
piano  a  very  great  thing — a  good  part  of  life." 

"  I'm  sure  we  haven't  hinted  such  a  thing,"  said  Law- 
son  quickly  ;  "  we  have  been  too  thoroughly  charmed 
to  even  thank  you  in  words."  He  got  up  and  came  to 
stand  on  the  other  side  of  her.  "  There  is  a  time  to 
sing,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  believe  earnest,  thoughtful  people  sing- 
often,"  she  replied  ;  ''  there's  nothing  useful  or  practical 
in  it." 

"  It  is  a  higher  kind  of  oratory,"  exclaimed  Milford, 
recalling  what  she  had  said  to  him  once,  **  and  it  has  a 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  lo; 

great  power  to  sway  the  hearts  of  those  who  listen 
You  had  me  under  a  spell  just  now." 

•'  Taking  your  polite  statement  in  cold  earnest,  sup 
pose  I  did  touch  your  feeling  for  the  moment,  what  o: 
it?     It's  a  poor  little  thing  to  do." 

"  How  frank  !  How  deliciously  sincere  !  To  touch 
my  feelings  is  a  poor  deed,  I  admit,  and  not  worth 
doing,  but " 

"You  are  unfair,"  she  stopped  him  to  say,  "you 
know  what  I  mean,  Mr.  Milford." 

"  I  catch  your  thoughts  readily,"  Lawson  hurried  tc; 
remark;  **you  mean  that  thing  is  so  easily  donr 
that  it  requires  no  great  effort  to  accomplish  it." 

*'  How  stupid  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "■  I  meant  nothing 
like  that.  There  surely  must  be  some  greater  achieve- 
ment possible  to  a  woman  than  merely  showing  off  a 
light  accomplishment  now  and  then.  You  both  under- 
stand what  I  meant.  You  know  very  well  that  men 
consider  women  as  mere " 

''  Oh,  come  now,"  expostulated  Lawson,  ''  be  good 
enough  to  sing  another  song,  the  effect  of  the  other 
has  about  passed  off.     I  begin  to  feel  dull  again." 

''  No,"  she  said,  rising  and  going  into  the  window, 
''  I'm  out  of  the  singing  mood.  The  idea  of  my  voice 
serving  instead  of  a  cigar  or  a  glass  of  wine,  to  sharpen 
the  wit  of  any  one  !  Talk  about  the  noble  art  of 
singing!  I  am  ashamed  of  having  acceded  to  youi 
wishes  even  once  in  that  regard." 


I02  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Milford  did  not  like  all  this.  He  felt  that  Miss 
Wilton  might  appear  to  so  much  better  advantage  if 
she  could  forget,  upon  occasion,  at  least,  this  hobby 
she  so  willfully  and  persistently  was  riding.  Under  her 
airy  acting  he  saw  a  current  of  seriousness  that  affected 
him  as  if  he  had  looked  into  her  heart  and  discovered 
a  lesion.  He  was  conscious  of  a  fear  that  she  would 
succeed  in  destroying  the  sweetness  of  her  nature.  As 
for  Lawson,  her  artificial  resentment  of  his  poor 
attempts  at  humor  came  to  him  as  very  naturally 
assumed  under  the  circumstances,  and  he  treated  it  as 
lightly  as  its  spirit  demanded.  He  looked  at  her  as 
she  stood  framed  in  by  the  window  against  the  back- 
ground of  moon-lit  landscape,  and  he  thought  her  very 
lovely,  very  loveable.  Milford  unconsciously  recog- 
nized as  much  and  more,  for  he  was  aware  that  her  song 
was  still  echoing  in  his  heart. 

It  would  be  an  interesting  calculus  by  which  ona 
could  so  differentiate  the  feelings  of  a  man  as  to  dis- 
cover  just  when  and  how  love  gets  into  his  heart. 
Woman  is  the  variable,  human  nature  the  constant 
quantity,  love  the  controlling  increment  in  the  general 
proposition  ;  but  when  we  substitute  the  heart  of  a 
man  for  human  nature  and  thus  make  the  problem  a 
special  instance,  the  limit  becomes  infinitely  doubtful, 
oscillating  between  the  most  distant  extremes.  Take 
two  men,  one  like  Lawson,  the  other  like  Milford,  and 
what  a  difference  there  is  between  the  effect  of  this 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  103 

tender  increment  as  regards  the  new  attitude 
induced ! 

With  one,  love  was  objective,  with  the  other  it  was 
subjective.  Milford  looked  within  and  saw  a  new 
light,  he  felt  a  new  life,  indeed.  Lawson  looked  with- 
out and  began  to  consider  the  effect  upon  his  future. 
Each  felt  a  change  come  into  his  life. 

Lawson  went  close  to  her  and  looking  down  into  her 
face  with  an  intense,  smiling  earnestness,  said  : 

**  It  becomes  you  to  appear  greatly  wrought  up,  it 
makes  you  beautiful." 

*'  I  am  not  wrought  up,  and  I  don't  like  flattery,  Mr. 
Lawson,"  she  very  gravely  and  gently  responded. 
"Why  do  men  insist  upon  making  pretty  speeches  in 
lieu  of  arguments  when  they  talk  with  women  ?  You 
ought  to  feel  ashamed." 

"  I  am  ashamed,"  said  Lawson.  "  Ashamed,  humil- 
iated, abased.  Let's  wipe  it  all  out,  and  begin  over 
again." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  a  man  who  wished  he  were  a 
woman?  "  she  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Well,  every  sensible  viroman  wishes  she  were  a 
man." 

"What  for?" 

"  Oh,  to  be  free  and  fight  the  world." 

"  But  we  won't  allow  it,"  said  Lawson,  laughing. 

"  Because  you  are  bad.     All  men  are  bad." 


I04  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

**  All  men?"  inquired  Milford. 

"Yes,  all,  every  one  of  you." 

*'  I  see  a  fine  syllogism  in  that,"  said  Lawson,  "  it 
runs  as  follows :  All  men  are  bad  ;  all  women  desire 
to  be  men  ;  ergo  :  all  women  desire  to  be  bad  !  " 

"  No,  that  is  prettily  turned,  but  we  have  a 
decidedly  missionary  point  in  view.  The  syllogism  is  : 
every  one  should  wish  to  do  the  largest  good  ;  women 
wish  to  do  the  largest  good  ;  ergo :  they  wish  to  be 
free." 

"■  I  surrender,  you  are  free,"  said  Lawson,  with  a 
tragic  gesture.    "  Go  and  redeem  the  world." 

As  they  walked  down  town  together,  the  young  men 
were  silent  for  a  space,  as  if  each,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
some  mood,  feared  the  other  would  speak.  Such  a 
silence  is  somehow  different  from  an  ordinary  rest  from 
conversation.  Presently  Lawson  took  Milford's  arm 
in  a  familiar  way  and,  as  if  the  thought  had  suddenly 
arisen,  said : 

"  Miss  Wilton  is  a  strange  girl.  I  hardly  know  how 
to  take  her,  do  you  ?  " 

''  She  doesn't  especially  puzzle  me/*  Milford 
answered,  with  his  placid  reserve  bordering  on  some- 
thing less  polite.  Lawson's  tone  and  touch  irritated 
him.     "  I  like  her  very  much,"  he  added. 

*'  Oh,  yes,  I  do  too,  but  she's  silly  to  be  thinking  of 
practicing  law,"  said  Lawson. 

"  Silly  is  a  brutal  word  in  such  a  connection ;  a  word 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  105 

not  usually  applied  to  a  lady  by  a  gentleman,"  retorted 
Milford. 

''Oh,  bosh!  "  exclaimed  Lawson,  with  a  short  laugh. 
''  I  have  nothing  in  common  with  your  finical  sticklers 
for  sugar-coated  circumlocution  ;  a  spade  is  a  spade." 

"  And  a  gentleman  is  always  a  gentleman,"  said 
Milford.     "  There  is  no  room  for  mistake." 

"  See  here,  Milford,"  exclaimed  Lawson,  stopping 
short  and  squaring  himself  in  a  very  erect  attitude, 
''what  are  you  driving  at?  If  you  mean  to  insult  me, 
say  so  and  I'll  thump  this  sidewalk  with  you  ;  I  can 
and  will  thrash  you  in  a  minute ! " 

Milford  recoiled,  not  in  fear,  but  instinctively  from 
the  brutal,  vulgar  spirit  that  had  sprung  up,  as  if  from 
concealment  in  Lawson's  nature,  and  was  now  leering 
from  his  eyes  and  making  his  smooth  cheeks  purple. 
A  young,  ruffianly  prize-fighter  could  not  have  looked 
more  animal-like  and  repulsive. 

"  Many  men  are  stronger  than  I,  but  I  am  not  easily 
scared.  Reserve  your  force  for  a  higher  use,"  said 
Milford  after  a  moment.  "  Men  are  not  beasts." 
Lawson  glared  and  slowly  his  attitude  relaxed.  His 
face  grew  almost  pale  as  the  passionate  blood  ebbed 
from  it,  then  he  turned  and  rapidly  walked  away,  fling- 
ing back,  as  if  over  his  shoulder,  the  words  . 

"If  not  beasts,  we  both  are  fools  !  " 


VII. 

MILFORD,  on  coming  North,  had  tried  to  cast 
from  him,  as  far  as  possible,  all  the  peculiarities 
of  Southern  character  and  he  had  especially  labored  to 
get  rid  of  those  which  he  deemed  hindrances  to  his 
perfect  sympathy  with  the  new  life  he  would  have  to 
live.  He  quickly  saw  many  qualities  in  the  Western 
character  that  appeared  to  him  well  worth  acquiring. 
Here  were  force,  pluck,  cheerfulness,  heartiness  and  per- 
sonal bravery  without  any  knowledge  of  the  old  code 
(Thonneur.  At  first  he  could  not  understand  how  gentle- 
men could  quarrel,  and  even  come  to  blows,  without 
any  blood  shed  or  other  serious  result ;  but  gradually  he 
recognized  the  higher  civilization  which  allows  men  to 
disagree  and  yet  live  on  speaking  terms,  to  give  and 
take  even  insults  and  yet  not  kill  or  be  killed.  He  saw 
that  the  road  to  perfect  honor  did  not,  in  fact,  lie  over 
the  grave  of  one's  personal  enemy. 

When  he  came  to  reflect  over  his  words  with  Lawson, 
he  saw  that  he  had  done  wrong.  He  had  purposely 
insulted  the  young  man,  and  he  felt  the  shame  of  the 
act.  It  is  true  that  Lawson's  vulgar  braggadocio  man- 
ner had  revealed  the  fact  that  he  was  not  a  gentleman 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  but  it  had  its  root  in 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  107 

early  associations  and  training,  no  doubt,  against  which 
he  had  fortified  himself  in  vain  by  education  and  for- 
eign travel.  It  was  Milford's  theory  that  breeding 
will  come  out,  and  that  the  crude  stone  polished  is 
crude  still.  He  applied  this  theory  to  himself,  as  well  as 
to  Lawson,  arguing  that  his  own  language  and  actions 
during  the  altercation  had  shown  a  weak  impulse  to- 
ward the  old  Southern  plan  of  insulting  one's  enemy  in 
order  to  have  an  excuse  for  killing  him,  a  vulgar  and 
brutal  plan  indeed. 

Nevertheless,  after  all,  he  was  wholly  unprepared  for 
the  emergency,  when  Lawson  entered  the  office  next 
morning  with  beaming  face  and  carelessly  friendly  man- 
ner and  exclaimed  : 

**  Hello,  you're  down  early  !  What  a  fine  morning  ! 
I'm  going  to  Chicago  and  I  came  in  to  tell  you  that 
Wilkins,  the  father  of  the  murdered  boy,  you  know, 
will  be  in  to  employ  you  to  assist  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney. Of  course  that  means  that  you  are  to  take 
charge  of  the  case.  Wilkins  is  rich,  and  it  is  a  sort  of 
case  in  which  you  can  charge  a  big  fee.  A  word  to  the 
wise,  you  know." 

There  was  no  resisting  Lawson's  infectious  cheerful- 
ness and  good-fellowship  of  manner  and  voice.  Evi- 
dently he  had  forgotten  all  about  the  trouble  of  the 
night  before. 

"■  It  will  be  a  very  disagreeable  task,  prosecuting 
that  young    fellow,"  said    Milford,    a    little    self    con- 


lo8  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

sciously,  then  in  a  heartier  voice  :  "  but  it  was  a  foul 
deed  ;  he  deserves  the  last  degree  of  punishment." 

"  Certainly  he  does,"  said  Lawson,  "  and  the  dead 
boy's  father,  Mr.  Wilkins,  is  determined  that  he  shall 
have  it.  He'll  not  care  for  the  expense  of  the  thing. 
I  had  a  talk  with  him  yesterday.  I  told  him  to  see  you 
to-day ;  he'll  be  in  after  awhile — lives  in  the  country 
ten  miles,  you  know."  Lawson  looked  at  his  watch. 
"  It's  nearly  train  time,"  he  added,  rising  from  the 
chair  he  had  taken.  *'  I  must  be  off.  Don't  be  mealy, 
mouthed  about  the  fee.  It  ought  to  be  at  least  two 
thousand  dollars." 

Milford  rose. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  the  young  man's  guilt,  I 
believe?"  he  asked,  as  if  in  the  way  of  trying  to  throw 
off  some  burden. 

"Not  the  least;  he  does  not  deny  the  deed;  his 
defense  will  be  emotional  insanity,  the  old,  threadbare 
dodge." 

When  Lawson  had  gone  away,  Milford  sat  down  to 
think.  Here  at  last  was  a  probability  of  having  a 
chance  to  distinguish  himself  in  his  profession.  He 
would  have  the  popular  side  of  a  celebrated  case,  for 
the  murder  had  excited  all  the  country,  and  the  news- 
papers had  discussed  it  with  unusual  zeal.  Cowardice 
and  atrocious  brutality  had  marked  the  murder  as  one 
of  the  darkest  sort.  Another  fact  added  interest 
to  the   affair;    the   slayer   and    the    slain    both    had 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  109 

belonged  to  the  best  class  of  country  people,  so  far  as 
wealth  and  respectable  family  connections  went,  and 
the  murder  had  grown  out  of  a  love-passage,  the  dead 
boy  having  been  the  successful  suitor  of  a  beautiful 
young  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  country  parson.  It  does 
not  require  much  analysis  of  such  a  case  to  disclose 
the  elements  out  of  which  a  clever  lawyer,  gifted  with 
imagination  and  oratory,  could  build  a  resistless  appeal 
to  a  jury.  Milford  had  read  all  the  details  of  the  news- 
paper reports  touching  the  crime  and  was  prepared  to 
enter  at  once  upon  a  consideration  of  the  case  from 
the  prosecutor's  point  of  view.  He  had  digested  its 
points  pretty  thoroughly  by  the  time  Mr.  Wilkins,  a 
large,  brawny,  hard-faced  man  appeared. 

The  consultation  that  followed  disclosed  to  the  law- 
yer how  strangely  the  murder  had  affected  the  strong- 
minded  but  illiterate  farmer,  wdiose  wdiole  soul  had 
seemingly  concentrated  itself  in  the  desire  for  revenge. 

**  I  want  him  hung  es  high  es  a  kite,  an'  I  want  to 
see  it  with  my  owm  eyes  so's  to  be  shore  it's  done  an' 
done  'cordin'  to  law,"  he  savagely  said,  his  square  jaws 
setting  themselves  together  afterward  with  grim  firm- 
ness. "  I  don't  calc'late  for  my  boy  to  be  murdered 
an'  then  let  the  feller  'at  done  it  go  free,"  he  w^ent  on  ; 
*'not  by  a  long  shot.  If  money  an'  brains  can  do  it, 
I'm  goin*  to  see  'im  hung." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  bring  him 
to  a  just  punishment,"  said  Milford. 


no  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

*'  That's  the  talk,  lawyer ;  jest  punishment,  jest  pun. 
ishment,  that's  what  I  want  er  see.  My  pore  boy," 
the  man's  iron  face  quivered,  "  my  pore  boy,  he's  dead 
an'  I  want  er  see  him  'at  done  it  dead,  too  ;  that's  what 
I  call  jest  punishment." 

"  To  be  hanged  is  the  fate  that  the  law  has  reserved 
for  the  murderer,"  said  Milford,  gravely,  "  and  the  pun- 
ishment is,  perhaps,  not  too  severe." 

"  Too  severe  !  Lawyer,  I've  got  nine  hundred  and 
eighty  acres  of  the  best  land  in  Lincoln  Township,  an* 
I'll  spend  it  all  or  have  that  villain  hung ;  do  you  hear 
me?" 

"  It  needn't  cost  you  that  much.  If  the  fellow  is 
guilty " 

"Guilty!  What  you  talkin'  about?  /  sajy  hes 
guilty^  an'  I  say  I  want  'im  to  be  hung  'cordin'  to  law,  an' 
I'm  here  to  hire  you  to  see  to  it ;  for  I  wouldn't  trust 
that  prosecutin'  attorney  to  do  nothin'  for  me.  He's  a 
republican  an'  I  don't  go  much  on  them  sort.  I'm  a 
democrat  an'  I  want  that  kind  of  a  lawyer.  They  told 
me  you  was  one." 

Milford  struggled  hard  to  keep  from  laughing,  for 
he  felt  that  any  levity  would  be  an  insult  to  the  ex- 
cited client. 

"  I'm  the  president  of  the  Farmers  Detective  Com- 
pany^ an'  they're  all  a-backin'  me,  an'  they  say  'at 
you're  the  best  pleader  at  this  here  bar,  an'  can  come 
mighty  nigh  jest  a-pleadin'  a  feller  in  or  a-pleadin'  him 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  HI 

out  any  way  you  want  to.  Now  that's  the  kind  I  want ; 
I  want  him  pleaded  into  a  slip-noose  and  hung*cordin* 
to  law.     Hung  high  and  choked  dead." 

"  The  evidence  of  his  guilt  is  very  strong,  and  a 
good  jury  will  be  inclined  to  punish  him  for  so  atro- 
cious a  crime  without  much  mercy,"  said  Milford. 

**  We  won't  have  no  other  sort  of  a  jury,  I  tell  you, 
we  won't  have  it,"  Wilkins  exclaimed,  bringing  his 
heavy  fist  down  on  the  desk  with  a  loud  thump  and 
glaring  ferociously.  "  I'm  a-goin'  to  see  to  that.  I've 
got  my  head  sot  onto  havin'  a  fair  trial,  a  fair  conviction 
an'  a  mighty  dead  hangin*  to  the  end  of  it  all,  an'  don't 
you  forgit  it,  nuther!  There's  goin'  to  be  no  foolin*." 
For  some  reason  Milford  could  find  no  ready  response 
to  such  a  declaration.  He  sat  and  looked  steadily  into 
the  great  shaggy  face  with  its  hard  lines  and  little 
steel-gray  eyes.  Presently  the  farmer  said  :  **  Well, 
s'pose  we  talk  business.  I'm  here  to  hire  you  ;  what 
you  goin'  to  charge  me  ?     Don't  be  too  steep." 

**Two  thousand  dollars,"  answered  the  lawyer, 
almost  hoping  that  the  amount  of  the  fee  would  end 
negotiations  at  once,  for,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  was 
recoiling  from  the  awful  responsibility. 

**  Well,  your  money'll  be  ready  for  you ;  go  at  it, 
stick  to  it,  never  leave  it  or  forsake  it  till  he's  hung. 
I  mean  business  an'  don't  you  forgit  it !  An',  lawyer, 
ef  he's  hung  I'll  put  five  hundred  more  to  your  fee; 
d'ye  hear?" 


112  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

The  man  took  a  big,  sleek  wallet  from  his  pocket 
and  counted  a  roll  of  bills.  "  There's  two  hundred  to 
bind  the  bargain,"  he  said,  handing  the  money  to  Mil- 
ford.  *'  I  don't  want  no  half-way  pleadin'  in  this  here 
case  ;  I  jest  want  it  naturally  druv  ahead,  like  maulin' 
rails,  till  the  hangin's  done.     Give  it  to  him  raw! " 

There  was  something  pathetically  awful,  if  the 
phrase  is  permissible,  in  the  stern,  grim  hunger  for  re- 
venge which  the  old  man  exhibited  in  his  every  word, 
look  and  act.  To  see  the  murderer  of  his  son  hanged 
seemed  to  be,  for  the  time,  the  only  wish  he  was  capa- 
ble  of  entertaining. 

Milford  was  glad  when  his  client  had  gone ;  the  air 
of  the  room  appeared  clearer  and  seemed  lighter  to 
breathe. 

McGinnis,  the  banker,  dropped  in  soon  after,  rub- 
bing  his  nervous  hands  and  smiling. 

"  Did  you  get  him  on  your  hook  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
suppose  you  did,  though,  of  course." 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ? "  demanded  Milford, 
though  he  felt  pretty  sure  it  was  Wilkins  that  was 
meant. 

'*  Oh,  the  old  moss-back,  what*s-his-name-Wilkins  ! 
I  sent  him  up  here.  Stingy  old  curmudgeon,  hope  you 
downed  him  for  a  good  big  fee.  He's  rich  and  now  is 
the  time  to  squeeze  him." 

**  He  employed  us  to  prosecute,"  said  Milford. 
-  '*  Glad  of  it  1    I  told  him  to  get  you  and  Lawson,  more 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  113 

especially  you,  for  Lawson's  no  lawyer,  he's  a  financier, 
a  regular  Jim  Fiske.  I  told  Wilkins  that  you  would 
raise  the  very  roof  off  the  court-house  if  he  employed 
you."  Here  he  paused  to  strike  a  match,  holding  a 
half-burned  cigar  between  his  lips.  "  Of  course  he'd 
believe  anything  I  told  him." 

"Thank  you,  you  have  been  very  kind,"  Milford 
hastened  to  say. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  or  anybody  *d  do,  in  a  case  like 
that,  just  as  well  as  Dan  Voorhees  or  Ben  Harrison," 
replied  the  banker.  **  It  doesn't  require  a  Webster  to 
convict  a  murderer  who  don't  deny  the  deed.  I  knew 
you  needed  the  fee  and  could  handle  that  sort  of  a 
case  well  enough." 

Milford  looked  into  McGinnis's  face  to  see  if  the 
man  were  really  sincere  in  giving  him  such  a  back- 
handed compliment  as  the  words  had  implied.  Evi- 
dently enough  the  banker  considered  himself  playing 
the  part  of  a  genuine  friend  to  a  deserving  young  man 
of  small  ability.  He  had  rather  kindly  eyes,  and  no 
doubt  viewed  the  matter  in  hand  from  the  point  of 
view  of  mere  dollars  and  cents. 

"  I  told  you  I'd  be  a  friend  to  this  firm,  the  first 
time  I  was  up  here.  Business  is  pretty  good,  isn't 
it  ?  "  he  added,  in  a  light,  ofT-hand  tone. 

"  We  are  getting  on  very  well,  thank  you,"  said  Mil- 
ford, *'  and  I  am  grateful  for  your  friendship." 

*'  By  the  way,  where's  Lawson  ? "    McGinnis  in- 


114  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

quired,  as  if  the  thought  of  asking  the  question  had 
been  accidental. 

"  He  went  to  Chicago  this  morning.** 

"  Humph !     Did  he  say  what  for  ?  " 

''  No." 

The  banker  beat  a  low  tattoo  on  the  desk  with  his 
fingers  and  hummed  a  tune.     Then  : 

"  When  will  he  be  back  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  He  didn't  say,  I  think." 

"  Did  he  get  a  telegram  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     He  didn't  mention  it  if  he  did." 

**  Humph !  Well,  it's  of  no  importance  ;  I  can  see 
him  when  he  returns.** 

McGinnis  smoked  awhile  in  silence,  apparently 
absorbed  in  thought.  Presently  he  rose  and  as  he 
walked  to  the  door,  said  : 

"Well,  good  luck  to  you  in  your  murder  case. 
You*ve  caught  your  hare,  that's  the  first  command  of 
the  recipe,  skin  him  is  the  next." 

He  went  out  humming  the  tune  he  had  dropped  a 
few  minutes  before. 

Lawson  returned  late  in  the  evening  of  the  next 
day  and  found  Milford  busy  with  his  law  books,  brief- 
ing the  great  case.  A  tumbled  heap  of  supreme  court 
reports  lay  on  the  desk,  whilst  almost  every  chair  and 
table  in  the  room  had  a  similar  incumbrance. 

*'  By  Jove  !  this  looks  like  a  law-office !  What's 
stirred  you  up  to  this  pitch  of  frenzy,  I  wonder ! "  he 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  II5 

exclaimed,  lifting  his  hands  and  arching  his  brows, 
"  It  surely  must  mean  Wilkins !  " 

Milford  did  not  have  time  to  answer  this  rather 
boisterous  greeting  before  McGinnis  came  in  and  hus- 
tled Lawson  into  the  consultation-room. 

"  I've  been  dead  to  see  you,"  said  the  banker,  as 
soon  as  the  door  was  shut.     "  I've  made  a  discovery." 

*'  Well,  out  with  it,"  said  Lawson. 

"  Well,  Arnold  G.  Lewis  has  got  control  of  the  X. 
L.  &  V.  bonds  and  has  determined  to  build  the  road 
through  Bankersville,  instead  of  through  Saxtonburg." 

"Well.^" 

**  I  hit  on  a  scheme  yesterday  and  came  at  once  to 
see  you,  but  you  were  gone.  It  is  this  :  the  old  grade 
of  the  defunct  L.  J.  &  P.  can  be  had  of  Larkin,  of 
Chicago,  who  holds  the  old  bonds,  for  a  trifling  sum,  if 
we  can  buy  them  before  he  discovers  Arnold  G.  Lewis's 
plan." 

"  What  do  you  call  a  trifling  sum  in  that  connec- 
tion ?  "  Lawson  inquired. 

"  Oh,  for  that  matter,  most  any  small  amount ;  but 
we  could  make  big  money  by  giving  him  twenty-five 
thousand." 

"  Do  you  think  so?" 

"  I  know  so.  Lewis  has  gone  so  far  that  he  can't 
back  out,  and  he  evidently  thinks  the  old  grade  is 
abandoned  and  lying  there  ready-made  to  his  hand. 
He'd  have  to  pay  any  price  we  might  ask." 


n&  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

"  That  being  the  case,  congratulate  me,"  said  Law 
son.  "  I  bought  the  bonds,  stock  and  all  the  franchises 
of  the  defunct  L.  J.  &  P.  from  Larkin  this  morning 
for  three  thousand  dollars !  '* 

"  You  did  !  •' 

"  I  most  assuredly  did,  and  have  the  papers  in  my 
traveling  bag  at  this  moment." 

McGinnis  could  not  quite  hide  his  mingled  surprise 
and  chagrin  behind  the  indifferent  smile  he  conjured 
up  into  his  face. 

"  Well,  youVe  got  a  good  thing — a  small  bonanza, 
if  you  pull  the  strings  right,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't  know 
you  were  working  at  it,  however.  In  fact  I  thought  I 
was  the  only  person  in  Bankersville  who  knew  the  con- 
dition in  which  things  stood  with  reference  to  the  old 
grade." 

Lawson  chuckled  heartily,  and  there  was  a  gleam  in 
his  eyes  that  disturbed  the  banker,  it  was  so  mirthfully 
soulless  and  selfish. 

"  I'm  not  asleep  every  time  my  eyes  are  shut,"  the 
young  man  said.  "I've  been  waiting  for  Arnold  G. 
Lewis  to  walk  into  the  net.  He's  in  now  and  he'll 
have  to  buy  that  grade." 

The  "  old  grade,"  as  it  was  termed,  was  a  roadway 
long  since  abandoned,  but  once  made  ready  for  the 
cross-ties  and  iron  of  a  projected  railroad.  It  was  fin- 
ished, so  far  as  the  earthwork  was  concerned,  to  a  dis- 
tance of  fifty  miles  westward  from  Bankersville.     It 


A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  II7 

lay  exactly  in  the  direction  of  Lewis's  proposed  line, 
and  to  use  it  would  save  him  some  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  on  the  cost  of  building  his  road.  Lawson, 
with  that  sensitiveness  to  financial  suggestions  which 
always  distinguishes  the  American  speculator,  saw  the 
main  chance  from  the  moment  that  Arnold  G.  Lewis's 
plans  began  to  reach  the  public  attention.  It  was 
Miss  Crabb  who  first  set  him  to  considering  the 
scheme  for  getting  possession  of  the  franchises  and 
the  finished  work  of  the  old  company.  In  her  unflag- 
ging pursuit  of  the  news  for  her  paper  she  had  in- 
quired of  Lawson  about  the  probable  ability  of  Arnold 
G.  Lewis  to  build  his  road  by  way  of  Bankersville 
instead  of  by  way  of  Saxtonburg. 

*'  I  should  think  this  is  quite  as  good  a  town  as 
Saxtonburg,  to  say  the  least,"  Lawson  had  answered ; 
''but  the  country  is  not  so  level,  it  would  cost  more  to 
come  this  way." 

*'  Oh,  but  you  forget,  there's  the  old  grade  reaching 
from  here  clear  to  the  Illinois  line,  and  almost  ready 
for  the  ties  and  iron,"  she  rejoined.  "  That  can  be 
utilized,  you  know." 

"That's  true,  certainly,  but ; "  he  hesitated,  his  mind 
working  with  more  than  lightning  celerity,  "  that  really 
might  have  a  tendency  to  counteract  the  heavy  work 
east  of  here,  though  I  should  think  it  would  require  a 
great  deal  of  work  to  make  the  old  grade  ready." 

He  looked  at  her  so  fixedly  that  her  eyes  fell  and 


Il8  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

she  actually  blushed  a  little ;  but  in  fact  he  did  not  see 
her.  He  was  looking  far  past  her  to  a  possible  finan- 
cial horizon.  He  left  her  abruptly  and  went  directly 
to  the  records  of  the  county  to  study  the  status  of  the 
defunct  railroad  company,  with  a  view  to  ascertaining 
where  the  principal  owners  of  the  stock  and  bonds 
lived.  It  did  not  take  him  long  to  find  out  that  one, 
Larkin,  of  Chicago,  held  a  mortgage  and  judgment 
which  controlled  every  thing.  With  this  knowledge 
safely  housed  in  his  mind,  he  kept  still  and  bided  his 
time  until  Arnold  G.  Lewis,  the  great  railroad  man, 
had  gone  so  far  with  building  the  X.  L.  &  V.  in  the 
direction  of  Bankersville  that  he  could  not  change  the 
route  ;  then  he  went  to  Chicago  and  bought  Larkin's 
mortgage  and  judgment,  together  with  his  stock,  bonds 
and  all  other  evidences  of  ownership  or  incumbrance. 

McGinnis  felt  that,  in  some  indirect  and  uncer. 
tain  way,  this  brilliant  coup  d'  argent,  as  Miss  Crabb 
was  fond  of  calling  such  things,  had  been  at  his  ex- 
pense and  that  Lawson  had  maliciously  enjoyed  his 
discomfiture.  It  must  not  be  taken  for  granted  that 
all  men  are  selfish  enough  to  entertain  McGinnis's 
view  of  the  matter,  but  somehow  these  big  lumps  of 
good  luck  are  always  just  about  to  fall  into  so  many 
hands,  at  the  time  the  successful  fellows  carry  them 
off,  that  the  unsuccessful  ones  can  not  avoid  feeling 
a  sense  of  deep  injury.  The  banker  was  too  much 
a  man  of  the  world  to  exhibit  his  chagrin,  however. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  1 19 

He  praised  Lawson's  shrewdness  and  foresight  and 
congratulated  him  volubly. 

Between  Lawson  and  Mr.  Arnold  G.  Lewis  the  ne- 
gotiations were  short  and  simple.  Lewis  could  afford 
to  pay  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the  "  old  grade  " 
and  the  franchises  pertaining  thereto,  and  he  did, 
thus  permitting  Lawson  to  realize  a  net  profit  of 
about  ninety-seven  thousand  dollars. 

Of  course  the  rapidly  accumulating  fortune  of 
Lawson,  attended  as  its  growth  was  by  a  series  of 
such  exceptionally  lucky  strokes  of  chance,  gave  the 
young  man  a  most  picturesque  attitude  in  the  eyes 
of  the  public.  The  newspapers  exaggerated  his  achieve- 
ments and  some  editor  gave  him  the  name  of  Lucky 
Lawson,  which  was  taken  up  and  bandied  about  by 
the  press  in  all  sorts  of  flattering  paragraphs.  No 
doubt  this  notoriety  stimulated  his  ambition  and  gave 
him  that  sort  of  audacious  pluck  which  at  times 
appears  to  carry  a  man  of  his  peculiar  gifts  and 
temperament  forward  with  a  rapid  acceleration  of 
force.  At  all  events,  he  now  entered  upon  a  career 
of  successful  speculation  which,  if  it  was  deprecated 
by  many  of  the  best  people  in  Bankersville,  gave 
him  an  influence  that  few  men  acquire  so  young. 
Nor  did  he  appear  selfish,  for  he  donated  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  to  help  build  the  new  Presbyterian 
church,  and  ten  thousand  to  the  college  to  be  used 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  poor  young  men  studying 


I20  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

for  the  ministry.  Later  on,  but  this  is  going  far 
ahead  of  our  story,  he  gave  to  the  city  of  Bankers- 
ville  a  finely-wooded  tract  of  land  for  a  public  park. 
Such  acts  are  not  lost  upon  a  community.  A  pub- 
lic-spirited man  rarely  fails  to  endear  himself  to 
the  people  who  feel  his  liberality,  and  especially  if 
his  gifts  are  supplemented  by  a  genial  personal 
bearing. 

Bankersville  felt  the  impetus  given  to  its  trade  by 
the  emulation  Lawson's  example  generated.  It  may 
have  been  that  the  time  was  ripe  for  the  coming  of 
such  a  spirit  and  thus  every  thing  stood  ready  to 
help  it  along.  Certainly  the  tide  flowed  with  Lawson, 
and  it  appeared  to  bear  the  whole  of  Bankersville 
forward  with  it,  until  at  length  the  Bucket-shop 
came. 


VIII. 

MILFORD  pursued  his  study  of  the  evidence 
and  authorities  bearing  upon  the  murder  case, 
with  alternate  periods  of  enthusiasm  and  of  depression. 
He  felt  that  much  was  expected  of  him,  for,  owing  to 
the  generous  paragraphs  of  Miss  Crabb,  and  to  Law- 
son's  quite  as  generous  talk  on  the  street,  it  had  gone 
forth  that  he  was  preparing  to  make  a  brilliant  and 
thorough  prosecution  of  the  young  murderer;  and  yet 
he  was  indirectly  conscious,  so  to  speak,  of  an  under- 
current of  adverse  feeling  setting  against  him.  The 
jealousy  of  a  few  lawyers  who  imagined  that  he  had 
thrown  himself  in  the  way  of  their  careers,  showed 
itself  in  various  annoying  ways,  chiefly  by  means  of 
anonymous  communications  to  an  unscrupulous  jour- 
nal reflecting  on  his  past  life,  having  especial  reference 
to  his  connection  with  the  confederate  army.  The 
following  paragraph,  copied  from  the  Bankersville 
Snarler^  is  a  fair  instance : 

"  It  would  seem  very  fitting  that  the  foulest  mur- 
derer who  ever  disgraced  our  jail  should  be  defended 
by  the  only  lawyer  at  our  bar  who  ever  lifted  his  hand 
against  the  flag  of  our  country." 

Once  in  a  while  these  nagging  paragraphs  took  the 
so-called  humorous  form.     Here  are  some  samples : 


122  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

"We  presume  that  Colonel  Milford  (all  Southerners 
are  colonels,  we  believe)  will  close  his  oration  in  the 
Wilkins  murder  case  with  the  genuine  old-fashioned 
rebel  yell." 

"Our  solitary  relic  of  *  chivalry  and  honahsah '  will 
wave  the  ensanguined  garment  over  the  jury  next 
week.  The  prisoner  is  forewarned  that  he  is  fore- 
doomed." 

Some  watchful  and  patient  enemy  invariably  mailed 
him  a  carefully-marked  copy  of  each  paper  containing 
any  thing  of  this  character,  and  although  he  never 
gave  any  public  notice  to  the  vulgar  and  malicious 
things,  he  could  not  get  rid  of  a  keen  sensitiveness  to 
their  poison. 

Milford  had  written  within  the  past  year  several 
pieces  of  verse  for  the  magazines,  but  under  cover  of 
a  nom  de  plume.  His  lynx-eyed  torturers  discovered 
this,  as  a  much-copied  paragraph  showed  : 

"  We  suggest,"  it  ran,  "  that  Colonel  Milford, 
ex-rebel,  if  he  wants  to  make  sure  of  the  prison- 
er's utter  collapse,  quote  some  of  his  love-poetry 
to  the  court  and  jury  in  the  coming  murder  trial. 
The  colonel's  poetry  is  warranted  to  be  sugar-coated 
death  to  all  sensible  people.  Next  week  we  shall  give 
our  readers  one  or  two  of  his  spooniest  and  mooniest 
effusions." 

The  reader  will  understand  that  this  sort  of  doings 
was  not  indulged  in  by  the  representative  journals  of 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  1 23 

Bankersville,  whose  editors  were  gentlemen  ;  still  it  had 
its  sting  all  the  more  worrying  because  coming  from  a 
source  utterly  irresponsible  and  therefore  unassailable. 

During  this  season  of  mingled  hope  and  doubt, 
when  ambition  to  succeed  and  disgust  with  his  pro- 
fession were  alternately  uppermost  in  his  heart, 
Milford  found  Miss  Wilton  always  ready  to  encourage 
him  and  incite  him  to  what  she  termed  the  heroic 
treatment  of  the  case.  She  often  startled  him  with  the 
force  and  originality  of  her  suggestions  in  this  regard, 
but  oftener  with  the  calm  severity  of  her  words. 

"  He  has  robbed  a  mother  of  her  son,  and  a  young, 
sweet  girl  of  her  lover,"  she  said,  "  and  I  think  he 
deserves  no  mercy.  I  should  not  hesitate  to  urge  his 
conviction  on  the  highest  possible  grounds." 

She  frequently  referred  with  something  akin  to  bit- 
terness, to  the  outrageous  assumption  implied  by  the 
murder,  as  she  viewed  it,  the  assumption  on  the  mur- 
derer's part  that  the  girl  was  not  to  be  considered  at 
all  in  the  case  where  two  men  fall  in  love  with  her. 
"  She's  mine,"  says  he,  although  she  has  refused  him 
and  chosen  the  other,  and  he  kills  the  lover  for  having 
dared  to  take  his  own. 

"  I  see  in  such  an  instance,"  she  remarked,  ''one  of 
the  dregs  of  barbarity,  a  fragment  left  over  from  the 
days  when  women  were  the  property,  the  slaves  of  men. 
It  speaks  of  but  a  feeble  progress,  a  slight  advance 
from   medieval  times.     Here  are  two  men  :  they  find  a 


124  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

pretty  girl,  one  succeeds  in  getting  her,  then  they 
scramble  over  possession  of  her,  just  as  two  robbers 
would  wrangle  over  an  ill-gotten  treasure.  What  right 
has  a  man  to  assume  that  he  has  any  ownership  in  a 
woman  ?  what  right  has  he  to  presume  to  fight  about 
her  ?  She  has  the  sole  proprietary  right  to  herself,  and 
no  man  has  any  concern  in  the  matter  until  she  gives  it 
to  him.  I  despise  the  way  Blackstone  discusses  the 
rights  of  women,  that  is,  in  the  main.  He  scarcely 
winces,  for  instance,  when  he  announces  that  possibly 
the  law  would  uphold  a  man  in  moderate  chastisement 
of  his  wife  at  need.  The  whole  groundwork  of  the  law 
as  regards  women  is  rotten.  It  is  this  rottenness  of 
the  substance  of  law  that  has  educated  men  up  to  the 
point  of  killing  each  other  on  a  woman's  account." 

Milford,  looking  at  the  question  from  a  man's  as 
well  as  from  a  lawyer's  point  of  view,  was  unable  to 
observe  any  strict  relevancy  in  such  an  argument,  but 
he  did  catch  from  it  the  effect  of  a  fine  womanly  feel- 
ing, which  often  serves  admirably  in  the  place  of  logic. 
Moreover,  she  made  him  aware,  in  a  larger  degree  at 
each  interview,  how  charmingly  sincere  she  was  and 
with  what  unlimited  honesty  she  was  going  forward 
with  her  purpose  in  life.  It  was  not  unnatural,  per- 
haps, that  Milford  should  be  reminded  forcibly,  in  this 
connection,  of  the  narrow  escape  that  he  and  Lawson 
had  had  from  an  encounter  which  might  have  ended  as 
disastrously  as  the   one  that  had  given  birth  to  the 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  125 

Wilkins  murder.  What  would  Marian  Wilton  thinl< 
or  do  if  that  strange  quarrel  should  come  to  her  knowl- 
edge ?  It  startled  him  to  recognize  what  a  weighty 
question  this  was  to  him.  Then  he  asked  himself  what 
would  be  the  end  of  this  interest  in  her  which  had 
already  grown  to  be  the  largest  value  of  his  life. 

"  If  you  make  a  fine,  strong,  eloquent  speech,"  she 
said  to  him  one  day,  "  and  gain  your  great  cause,  you 
will  have  won  your  fame.  Then  fortune  will  follow ; 
I  fairly  envy  you  your  golden  opportunity.  You  will 
be  master  of  it,  I  know." 

They  were  in  the  bay-window,  as  usual,  looking  out 
over  the  Wabash  valley,  now  heavily  covered  with 
snow.  She  was  in  fine  spirits,  her  face  showing  the 
rich  glow  of  health  and  enthusiasm.  On  this  subject 
she  was  always  enthusiastic. 

"  I  don*t  know,  I  can't  forecast  what  I  shall  be  able 
to  do,"  he  responded,  "  I  feel  so  differently  about  it  at 
different  times.  Really,  I  think  I  am  out  of  my  place 
as  a  lawyer  ;  there  is  something  in  the  profession  that 
galls  me  strangely." 

"  Don't  say  that,"  she  exclaimed ;  her  voice  was 
pitched  almost  to  a  command  ;  ''  you  are  unjust  to  your- 
self and  to  your  noble  calling.  I  want  you  to  gather 
up  your  every  force  and  show  what  you  can  do  in  this 
case;  your  friends  expect  it  of  you.  A  great  deal  is 
being  said." 

"Yes,  I  know  a  great  deal  is  being  said,"  he  replied, 


126  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

**  and  it  sometimes  seems  to  me  that  it  is  very  strange 
that  people  will  not  allow  me  the  privilege  of  attend- 
ing to  my  own  affairs  in  my  own  way  without  their 
suggestions."  Then,  feeling  that  she  might  construe 
his  words  into  an  ungenerous  rebuke  of  her  own  inter- 
est, he  quickly  added  :  "  You  can  not  know  how  I  prize 
your  kind  words,  however,  and  how  much  I  wish  to 
deserve  your  respect  and  your  encouragement." 

"■  But  what  people  say  and  think  must  be  a  great 
deal  to  you,"  she  said,  with  a  directness  of  manner  that 
seemed  to  ignore  his  last  phrases  ;  "  a  lawyer  lives  by 
what  the  people  think  and  say  of  him.  Now  is  your 
grand  chance  to  make  them  think  and  say  things  of 
incalculable  value,  and  you  must  be  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion." 

He  looked  at  her  fine,  energetic  face  and  wondered 
if  she  did  not  understand  as  perfectly  as  he  did  himself 
how  at  times  he  looked  upon  this  thing  of  prosecuting 
a  fellow-being  to  his  death  as  a  piece  of  vulgar  barbar- 
ism revolting  to  every  sense  of  a  higher  manhood. 

**  Do  you  ever  consider  the  situation  of  a  lawyer  who, 
for  hire,  hounds  a  human  being  to  the  gallows  as  hunt- 
ers hound  a  fox  ?  "  He  put  the  question  with  a  blunt- 
ness  that  seemed  to  him,  after  he  had  spoken,  almost 
cruel. 

"  Your  comparison  is  not  a  happy  one,"  she  calmly 
rejoined  ;  "  as  righteous  men  pursue  and  kill  deadly 
reptiles  would  sound  better.     How  do  you  propose  to 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  127 

protect  society?  Is  the  criminal  to  be  the  object  of 
fine  sympathy,  while  the  outraged  victims  of  his  malice 
go  uncared  for?     The  wages  of  sin  is  death." 

She  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence,  and  then,  as  if  not 
satisfied  with  what  she  had  said,  added  in  a  slightly 
altered  tone  :  "  Of  course  a  lawyer  is  never  called  upon 
to  do  any  more  than  his  duty.  He  must  never  stoop 
to  color  facts  or  to  cunningly  distort  the  law." 

Somehow  he  wished  that  she  did  not  feel  what  she 
said.  Not  that  he  could  have  pointed  out  any  sophis- 
try in  her  thought,  but  her  words  seemed  to  convey  a 
suggestion  of  an  acquired  and  unnatural  attitude  of 
her  mind. 

"  I  am  afraid  your  qualifications  and  limitations 
would  sadly  demolish  forensic  oratory,"  he  said  in  a 
lighter  manner.  "  There  is  usually  a  great  deal  of  color- 
ing and  distorting  in  the  standard  forensic  speeches." 

"But  you  must  not  do  that,"  she  exclaimed,  almost 
with  vehemence ;  **  you  must  set  a  worthy  pattern. 
You  see  I  expect  great  things  of  you,"  she  added 
with  a  cordial  smile. 

"Come  to  the  piano  and  sing  me  something,"  he 
said,  with  the  air  of  one  who  quits  a  hateful  subject. 
"  It  is  a  long  while  since  I  heard  you  last."  In  fact  it 
had  been  just  four  days. 

"  Let  me  read  instead  of  sing,"  she  remarked,  taking 
up  a  small  book  from  a  little  table  close  at  hand.  "  It 
will  vary  the  monotony." 


128  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

"That  will  do,"  he  said,  "so  that  it  is  something 
restful.  I  believe  I  am  tired.  I  have  been  working 
very  hard." 

She  read  Keats's  Ode  to  a  Nightingale  with  charming 
effect,  so  he  thought,  adding  the  sweetness  of  her  voice 
to  the  rich  color  and  tender  melancholy  of  the  incom- 
parable poem. 

Once  in  awhile  in  one's  life  a  very  small  thing,  even 
so  small  a  thing  as  hearing  a  young  woman  read  a  poem, 
has  the  power  to  stir  one's  heart  strangely.  Miss  Wil- 
ton's voice,  as  it  ran  over  the  swells  and  cadences  of 
the  charming  word-music,  filled  him  with  a  delicate  and 
tender  sense  of  a  far-reaching  pleasure.  As  he  looked 
at  her  a  Virgilian  verse  came  into  his  mind : 

Varium  ei  mutabile  semper  fe77iina. 

She  seemed  just  the  opposite  of  what  she  had  been 
a  few  minutes  before.  Then  she  had  appeared  ambi- 
tious, almost  austere  ;  now  she  looked  the  very  warm 
embodiment  of  womanly  sweetness. 

Somehow  the  lines : 

**  O,  for  a  beaker  full  of  the  warm  South, 
Full  of  the  true,  the  blushful  Hippocrene, 
With  beaded  bubbles  winking  at  the  brim 
And  purple-stained  mouth," 

kept  repeating  themselves  in  his  mind  after  she  had 
finished.     He  quoted  them  aloud  and  added  : 

"  I  would  rather  be  the  author  of  such  a  poem  as 
that  than  to  be  all  the  world's  best  lawyers  embodied 
in  one/' 


A  BANKER  OF  BA  NKERS  VILLE.  129 

"  But  what  good  would  it  do  you  ?  This  is  not  the 
dreamer's  age.  You  would  make  no  fame ;  you  would 
die  poor  and  obscure  at  the  end  of  a  wasted  life." 
She  assumed  almost  a  severe  tone  and  made  certain 
slight  half-impatient  gestures  as  she  spoke.  "  Every 
life  must  take  its  color  and  force  from  its  environment," 
she  went  on,  "and  there's  no  poetry  in  to-day's  sur- 
roundings. Go  in  for  a  practical  life  and  aim  at  some- 
thing solid,  something  the  age  demands,  for  that  way 
lies  success,  and  success  is  the  meed  of  all." 

There  was  nothing  didactic  or  "  preachy  "  in  her  man- 
ner. Whilst  she  was  greatly  in  earnest,  she  did  not 
grow  eloquent ;  it  was  as  if  she  were  enunciating  the 
result  of  a  careful  study. 

*' Arthur  Selby  has  reached  success,"  said  Milford  ; 
*'  his  is  a  pleasanter  life  than  a  lawyer's.  The  people  he 
distresses  or  kills  are  imaginary  ones.  I  would  rather 
be  a  novelist  than  a  lawyer." 

"Mr.  Selby  did  not  impress  me  much;  he  is  a  very 
light  man  in  every  way,  I  should  judge,"  she  replied 
in  a  reflective  way.  "  Literature  must  be  no  field  for 
heroes  if  he  can  stand  among  the  champions.  I  never 
met  a  more  commonplace  little  person." 

Milford  laughed  as  he  instantaneously  compared  her 
frank  reflections  with  some  of  his  own  on  the  same 
subject. 

"  It  is  more  what  a  man  achieves  than  what  he  is, 
after  all,"  he  suggested  evasively, "  as  regards  success." 


I30  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

"Yes,  but  I  got  an  impression  from  Mr.  Selby  that 
artists  and  poets  and  novelists  are  mostly  little  fellows 
who  couldn't  succeed  in  any  strong  practical  way.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  appear  a  pigmy  beside  the  people  I 
had  invented." 

"You  are  hard  on  Selby,'*  said  Milford  ;  "  he  seems 
to  have  broken  and  dispersed  all  your '* 

"  No,"  she  hurriedly  remarked,  "  he  simply  disclosed 
the  fact  that  the  literary  field  must,  at  the  best,  have  a 
very  light  soil  for  such  men  as  he  to  plow  the  deepest 
furrows.  I  do  not  mean  any  unkind  reference  to  Mr. 
Selby  personally.  Light  men  are  often  the  best,  but 
they  can  not  excel  in  a  really  heavy  profession,  where 
genuine  leadership  and  personal  mastery  are  the  test." 

**  Sing  me  a  song,  or  read  me  another  poem,"  ex- 
claimed Milford  ;  "  I  feel  very  weak  and  light  and  fear 
that  I  am  no  born  chieftain — no  hero — but  just  a  plain, 
old-fashioned,  conscientious  man." 

"You  are  an  exclusive  and  a  sentimentalist,"  she 
responded,  taking  up  his  half-bantering  manner,  as  she 
reopened  the  volume  of  Keats.  "You  will  droop  and 
languish  in  our  crisp  frosty  air.  You  have  too  many 
'Way  down  upon  the  Suwanee  River'  moods,  I  fear." 

She  read  two  or  three  sonnets,  and  afterward,  when 
he  was  taking  leave  of  her,  she  said : 

"  Promise  me  before  you  go  that  you  will  make  a 
great  speech  in  the  murder  case." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  he  answered.     He  very  much 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  13 1 

desired  to  say  a  great  deal  more,  for,  in  response  to  a 
hint  of  something  quite  insistent  and  earnest  in  her 
voice,  his  heart  leaped  and  his  whole  being  was  thrilled 
with  love.  But  he  forebore.  He  was  too  poor  to 
think  of  it,  and  then  her  ideal  was  not  like  him. 

"  If  you  really  do  your  best,  that  is  all  I  ask,"  she 
rejoined.  "  I  am  going  to  the  court-room  to  hear 
you." 

"  Then,  indeed,  I  will  put  forth  all  the  power  I 
have,"  he  said,  "  for  I  can  not  bear  to  fail  in  your 
presence."  There  was  a  depth  of  meaning  in  his 
voice,  which  the  words  failed  to  convey. 

"  You  will  not  fail  if  you  try  hard,"  she  exclaimed 
with  a  bright  smile,  and  he  went  away  full  of  a  strange 
sense  of  satisfaction. 


IX. 

MILFORD  continued  to  board  with  Mrs. 
O'Slaughtery,  and  it  pleased  him  to  note  a 
mutual  fondness  growing  between  that  volatile  land- 
lady and  Mr.  Downs,  the  now  thriving  auctioneer. 

*'He's  a  good  Catholic,  Misther  Downs  is,"  she  one 
day  said  to  Milford,  "  and  I  niver  found  it  out  till 
a  little  toime  ago,  the  sly  boy !  " 

*'Sly  o/d  boy,  you  mean,  my  dear  Mrs< 
O'Slaughtery,"  said  Milford. 

"Owld!  old!  (correcting  her  pronunciation)  who's 
old  ?     Not  Misther  Downs  to  be  sure  !  " 

"  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  an  auctioneer  for 
twenty-eight  years.     He  must  have  begun  young." 

*'  Oh,  Misther  Milford  !  how  you  can  fib  !  Misther 
Downs  is  jist  a  bit  past  thirty-foive."  She  turned 
aside  her  head  and  held  up  her  hands. 

**  You  seem  to  have  some  interest,  some  motive — ** 
Milford  began. 

** There  now!  There  you  go  again!"  she  cried. 
"It's  slander  me  boarders  or  misripresint  me,  you  do 
ivry  toime.  You're  getting  a  bad  disposition  in- 
tirely." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Milford,  in  a  dry,  matter- 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  133 

of-fact  tone ;  ''  I  like  Mr.  Downs,  he's  a  very  nice  old 
man." 

"Away  wid  ye!"  she  exclaimed,  forgetting  to 
repress  the  Irish,  "  away  wid  ye  !  Ye  think  ye's  smart, 
ye  do,  but  I  don't  moind  the  loikes."  She  blushed  in 
a  charmingly  impetuous  way  and  leaned  over  Milford, 
who  was  taking  a  late  luncheon,  until  her  rosy  lips 
were  close  to  his  ear.  *'  We  shan't  keep  any  boarders 
afther  we're  married,  so  we  shan't.  That's  what  he 
says ! " 

"  So  I  must  begin  to  look  for  a  new  place,  eh  ?  " 

"  Niver  ye  moind,  I'll  give  ye  due  notice,"  she  said 
with  a  very  joyous  laugh;  then  in  a  serious  tone  she 
added:  "A  person  has  to  consider  sich  a  thing  as  that. 
It  won't  do  for  a  woman  in  my  situation  to  jump  right 
off  into  the  foire,  as  ye  moight  say." 

"  Never  fear,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,  Mr.  Downs  is  a 
good  man,  and  if  you  love  him — " 

"  Love  him  !  Oh,  you  sloy  boy  !  "  and  she  rubbed 
her  face  with  her  palms  as  if  to  wipe  away  the  scarlet 
blushes. 

"  Well,  we  won't  quarrel  about  Downs  at  all  events,** 
Milford  remarked,  as  he  got  up  from  the  table.  "  I 
wish  you  both  a  long  and  happy  married  life." 
Remotely,  despite  a  prompt  protest  in  his  heart,  he 
was  conscious  of  some  connection  between  what  he 
was  saying  to  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  and  his  own  vision  of 
love  and  happiness.  A  happy  married  life !  The  phrase 


134  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

projected  such  a  picture !  A  home,  a  fire-side,  cozy 
surroundings,  and  Marian  Wilton.  A  young  man  has 
the  right  to  look  into  the  future  and  contemplate  a 
sketch  like  that. 

He  went  back  toward  his  office  with  one  of  those 
feverish  impulses,  which  lately  had  been  rather  fre- 
quent, urging  him  to  redoubled  effort  in  preparing  for 
the  great  criminal  trial.  In  some  way  Marian  Wilton 
had  become  a  part  of  the  affair  in  so  far  as  his  hourly 
increasing  interest  and  anxiety  were  concerned.  It 
was  as  if  he  were  making  the  effort  for  her,  instead  of 
for  his  client ;  for  love,  instead  of  for  justice. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  one  of  the  newspapers 
began  to  publish  garbled  and  distorted  stanzas  from 
some  of  Milford's  poems,  together  with  ludicrous  so- 
called  explanatory  notes  in  which  the  editor  said  some 
very  witty,  as  well  as  very  insulting  things,  to  which 
Milford  never  deigned  to  pay  the  slightest  attention. 

As  he  walked  toward  his  office  after  leaving  Mrs. 
O'Slaughtery's,  he  became  aware  of  an  unusual  stir  in 
the  street.  A  considerable  crowd  of  men  and  boys 
had  come  together,  and  were  eagerly  discussing  some 
exciting  subject.  Here  and  there  were  smaller  knots 
of  persons  evidently  absorbed  in  the  same  question. 
Downs  was  the  first  man  Milford  reached. 

*'  Hullo  !  "  exclaimed  the  auctioneer  with  mingled 
excitement  and  admiration  in  his  voice,  "  your  partner 
is  a  whole  team,  hain't  he?     He's  a  rattler!  " 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  I35 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Milford. 

"What !  don't  you  know?  Didn't  you  see  it?  Did 
you  miss  the  fun  ?  " 

*'No;  what  do  you  mean,  what  has  happened?" 

"  Why,  Lawson  jest  swiped  the  very  earth  with 
Dilkins,  awhile  ago  ;  didn't  you  know  that?  Well, 
that's  what's  the  matter!  " 

*' Dilkins  the  editor?" 

**Yes,  Dilkins  the  editor,  and  he  jest  more'n 
knocked  *im  out'n  time.  You  jest  ought  to  'a'  been 
here.     It  was  wus  'an  a  Barnum  circus  !  " 

Just  then  the  crowd  over  on  the  other  corner 
parted,  and  Dilkins,  led  by  two  men,  came  out,  dis- 
heveled, bleeding,  his  face  bruised  and  swollen  and  his 
coat  sadly  torn  and  dirty.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  he 
had  fared  badly. 

''  Look ! "  exclaimed  Downs.  "  Both  his  eyes  knocked 
into  one,  and  his  nose  spread  out  all  over  his  counte- 
nance !  Mr.  Lawson  knocked  *im  down  three  times 
jest  as  fast  as  he  could  git  up.  Jerusalem  !  but  them 
licks  sounded  loud  ! " 

A  moment  later,  Lawson  came  out  of  the  crowd 
attended  by  the  city  marshal.  He  was  smiling  and 
gesticulating. 

"  Oh,  for  that  matter,  I  can  thrash  every  editor  in 
town  without  stopping  to  rest,"  he  was  saying,  "  and 
I'm  going  to  do  it,  if  this  nagging  at  my  partner,  Mr. 
Milford,  isn't  stopped.     He's  a  quiet,  inoffensive  gen- 


136  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

tleman,  and  won't  resent  any  thing,  but  77/  do  his 
fighting  for  him  and  do  it  in  good  style,  too,  whip  an 
editor  every  day  in  the  year.  What  do  I  care  for  a 
little  fine?" 

"■  You  gave  him  a  good  one,"  said  the  marshal, 
jocosely,  strutting  along  at  Lawson's  side,  the  picture 
of  an  official,  conscious  of  his  importance  for  the 
moment.  It  was  not  every  day  that  he  could  arrest 
one  of  the  upper  ten  of  Bankersville.  He  fancied  that 
he  was  showing  the  mob  that  he  was  no  respecter  of 
persons. 

Milford  followed  the  stream  of  men  now  flowing 
into  the  mayor's  office.  Lawson  pleaded  guilty  to  an 
assault  and  battery,  and  was  formally  fined.  He 
handed  the  money  to  the  mayor,  and,  with  his  eyes 
half  turned  upon  some  newspaper  men  who  had  pushed 
to  the  front,  said  : 

*•  Your  honor  has  done  right ;  but  I  give  notice  now 
that  from  this  on,  until  my  money  is  exhausted  in 
fines,  I  purpose  to  thrash  every  editor  and  every 
reporter  who  speaks  insultingly  of  me  or  my  partner 
without  just  cause."  As  he  finished  speaking,  his  eyes 
met  those  of  Miss  Crabb,  who,  under  the  excitement 
of  the  occasion,  had  come  into  the  room  in  search  of 
the  news.  She  was  already  shrinking  back  and  trying 
to  get  out.  Lawson  went  to  her  at  once  and  made 
way  for  her  exit. 

"Of  course,  I  didn't  include  you  in   my  list   just 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  137 

now,"  he  laughingly  half-whispered,  "  but  I  mean  to 
do  just  what  I  said.  I'm  going  to  stop  this  infernal 
worrying  at  Milford,  or  be  found  trying.  The  idea  of 
such  a  cowardly  little  fox-eared  country  editor  as  Dilk- 
ins  calling  a  gentleman  like  Milford  a  '  rhyming  rowdy 
from  rebeldom,'  is  more  than  I  shall  bear  after  this." 

Milford  sought  the  seclusion  of  his  office,  bearing 
with  him  a  sense  of  humiliation.  A  good  many 
remarks  reached  his  ears  in  the  street.  Every  body 
seemed  to  take  Lawson's  part,  and  sustain  him  fully  in 
what  he  had  done  to  Dilkins. 

"  It's  just  as  Lawson  says,"  a  burly  citizen  had 
exclaimed  ;  **  Mr.  Milford  is  a  quiet,  nice,  good  man 
who  don't  harm  nobody.  He's  as  nice  an'  quiet  as 
any  woman.  Why  don't  these  editors  let  him  alone  ? 
Guess  they'll  be  mighty  apt  to  go  slow  after  this ; 
they've  got  Lawson  up  on  his  ear  now,  and  he's  one 
of  the  boys  !     He's  on  his  muscle." 

Lawson  came  in  after  awhile.  He  was  calm  and 
smiling  as  usual,  and  appeared  to  have  got  through 
the  encounter  without  a  scratch  or  a  bruise. 

**  I  want  to  beg  your  pardon,  Milford,"  he  exclaimed, 
*'but  I  couldn't  bear  it  any  longer." 

"  It  was  wrong,  rashly  wrong,"  said  Milford  ;  ''  you 
had  no  right  to  assume  a  protecting  attitude.  I  can 
take  excellent  care  of  myself." 

*'  Oh,  come  now,  I  know  you  couldn't,  situated  as 
you  are,  turn  your  hand.     You're  brave  and  all  that, 


138  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

but  you  know  that  if  you  go  to  fighting  you'll  take  a 
pistol  and  a  bowie-knife,  and  that  sort  of  thing  won't 
do  up  here.  No,  it's  best  just  as  it  is.  Let  me  do  the 
fighting !  I've  got  the  muscle  and  money,  and  I  rather 
like  the  exercise.     It's  wholesome." 

"  If  you  will  fight  in  your  own  name,  and  on  account 
of  your  own  affairs,  it  will  be  nothing  to  me,"  said 
Milford ;  "  but  I  do  not  choose  to  have  you  assume  to 
be  my  champion." 

Lawson  laughed.  Then,  in  a  very  cordial  tone,  he 
said  : 

"Oh,  I  don't  assume  that.  I  told  McGinnis  awhile 
ago  that  if  they  once  got  you  started  you'd  wake  up 
the  whole  town.  But,  in  fact,  you  can't  afford  it. 
You  are  from  the  South,  and  are  hampered  and  handi- 
capped by  your  rebel  record,  you  know." 

Milford  turned  quite  pale,  but  said  nothing.  Law- 
son  continued  : 

"  It's  a  great  thing  for  you.  Every  body  is  on  your  side 
now,  and,  Milford,  if  you  make  a  strong  speech  in  that 
murder  case,  your  rise  is  certain.  You  just  keep  cool 
and  push  right  on."  There  was  the  ring  of  good-fel- 
lowship in  his  voice,  which  effectually  repelled  any 
suspicion  of  a  patronizing  purpose  in  what  he  said. 
Milford  could  not  be  angry  with  him,  and  yet  the 
whole  atmosphere  of  the  present  state  of  things  was 
almost  unbearable.  A  man  can  submit  to  almost  any 
ordeal  with  more  grace  than  to  the  knowledge  that 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  139 

there  is  a  public  doubt  as  to  his  ability  to  fight  his  own 
battles. 

''  I  don't  want  you  to  weaken  on  the  prosecution  at 
any  point,"  Lawson  added,  *'  for  your  measure  will  be 
taken  by  the  speech  you  make." 

**  Well,  who  has  said  that  there  is  any  prospect  of 
any  weakening  on  my  part  ?  "  Milford  exclaimed ; 
"why  do  you  and  others  keep  intimating  that  I 
am  going  to  betray  my  client  and  debase  myself  by 
shirking  my  duty  ?  I  should  like  an  end  to  this 
stuff." 

*Tshaw,  Milford,  you  do  me  wrong.  I  have  not 
intimated  what  you  say.  I  am  so  earnestly  desirous 
of  your  high  success  that  I  may  have  said  something 
foolish.  Forgive  me.  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  think 
evil  of  me." 

The  young  men  gazed  at  each  other  a  moment  and 
then  shook  hands  in  token  of  a  better  understanding, 
laughing  a  little  meanwhile. 

Next  morning  the  newspapers  were  literally  full  of 
what  they  called  the  Lawson-Dilkins  affair.  In  a 
general  way  the  editoral  comments  were  favorable  to 
Lawson,  but  the  editor  of  the  News  affected  to  see  in 
the  outcome  of  the  encounter  a  blow  given  to  the 
freedom  of  the  press,  and  he  ended  a  scathing  para- 
graph as  follows : 

"  The  editor  of  this  journal  does  not  care  to  be 
counted  among   fighters,  but  he  ventures  the  casual 


t40  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

remark  that  Mr.  Lawson's  attack  upon  Mr.  Dilkins 
was  brutal  and  cowardly.  If  Mr.  Lawson  doesn't 
relish  what  we  here  say,  we  have  a  seven-shooter  which 
positively  denies  Mr.  Lawson's  ability  to  do  to  us  what 
he  did  to  Dilkins.     T\\^News  defies  Mr.  Lawson." 

No  sooner  did  Lawson  see  the  paragraph  than  he 
forthwith  went  to  the  News  office.  The  editor  had 
his  pistol  handy  and  showed  great  pluck,  but  he  was 
excited  and  fired  wide  of  his  aim.  Lawson  wrenched 
the  weapon  out  of  his  hand,  seized  him  by  the  throat 
and  proceeded  to  beat  him  soundly. 

''Your  seven-shooter  didn't  say  the  truth,"  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  dashed  the  limp  editor  into  a  corner 
of  the  room. 

He  met  Miss  Crabb  on  the  stairway,  as  he  went 
down.  She  looked  at  him  in  utter  amazement.  She 
had  heard  the  pistol-shot* 

"  I  have  kept  my  word,"  he  said,  touching  his  hat 
and  passing  on  down  into  the  street.  His  face  was 
very  red. 

Of  course  this  second  exploit  caused  still  greater 
excitement,  but  it  put  an  end  to  the  insulting  para- 
graphs. The  proprietors  of  the  News  discharged  the 
editor  rather  than  have  him  attempt  to  continue  the 
course  he  had  begun.  The  popular  tide  was  too 
strong  in  Lawson's  favor.  What  his  money  could  not 
have  done,  his  reckless  personal  courage  had  accom- 
plished. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  141 

One  good  result  of  all  this  was  the  promotion  of 
Miss  Crabb  to  the  editor's  chair  in  the  News  office. 
She  merited  the  distinction,  such  as  it  was,  and  her 
influence  was  good  for  the  journal  in  many  ways. 
She  possessed  the  rare  faculty  of  being  able  to  separate 
the  news  of  the  hour  from  the  mere  worthless  and  harm- 
ful gossip  which  is  continually  poured  into  the  office 
of  a  country  newspaper.  Not  that  she  was  entirely 
free  from  the  tyranny  of  petty  personal  motives,  but 
she  tempered  even  her  shortcomings  in  that  direction 
with  a  reserve  that  was  in  her  favor.  She  had  literary 
aspirations  and  took  occasion  to  fill  a  column  of  the 
News,  now  and  then,  with  sprightly  notices  of  new 
books  and  comments  on  the  current  issues  of  the  maga- 
zines. Perhaps  she  at  times  indulged  the  hope  that 
some  of  her  well-chosen  words  of  praise  might  return 
to  her  one  of  these  days,  like  bread  cast  upon  the 
water,  when  her  novel  should  at  last  appear  from  one 
of  the  great  Eastern  publishing-houses.  She  certainly 
believed  that  literary  kissing  was  to  a  large  degree  a 
matter  of  favor,  for  on  what  other  theory  could  she 
explain  the  persistent  regularity  with  which  her  man- 
uscripts came  back  to  her  from  the  magazines  wherein, 
just  as  regularly,  appeared  the  contributions  of  a  cer- 
tain Miss  Luckey,  of  Ohio  ?  She  felt  quite  sure  that 
Miss  Luckey,  although  a  good  writer,  possessed  no 
advantage  over  her  other  than  that  of  some  chance 
friendship   with  those   who  could    help  her.     It  was 


142  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

natural  enough  for  Miss  Crabb  to  note  with  a  little 
thrill  of  delight  the  announcennent  that  Mr.  Arthur 
Selby  had  been  made  editor  of  a  great  magazine  pub- 
lished at  New  York.  The  thought  of  sending  him  a 
story  came  up  at  once.  She  had  been  nursing  the 
MS.  for  a  good  while. 

"■  My  Dear  Mr.  Selby  :"  she  wrote, 

"  I  have  just  noticed  that  you  have  taken  editorial 

charge  of  the magazine.     I  hope  you  have  not 

forgotten  me  ;  but,  whether  you  have  or  not,  here  is 
a  story  which  I  do  hope  you  will  find  acceptable.  Our 
town  has  grown  a  great  deal  since  you  were  here,  but 
it  remembers  your  visit  with  pleasure. 

"  Very  truly  yours  etc.,  Sarah  Anna  Crabb." 

She  affixed  her  signature  to  this  note  and  sealed  it 
up  with  the  MS.,  feeling  a  little  fluttering  at  heart. 
Would  he  open  the  great  door  of  a  literary  life  to 
her?  How  easy  it  would  be  for  him  to  do  it!  She 
was  sure  that  if  she  had  charge  of  a  powerful 
magazine  it  would  delight  her  to  give  a  struggling 
genius  the  chance  to  live  and  grow.  Suddenly  she 
tore  off  the  envelope ;  how  near  she  had  come  to  ruin- 
ing her  opportunity  !  She  hastily  examined  the  top 
of  the  first  page  of  the  MS.  Sure  enough,  there,  on 
the  margin,  were  the  cabalistic  pencil-marks  of  the  last 
editor  who  had  declined  it.  She  took  an  eraser  and 
carefully  rubbed  off  the  figures  and  letters.  This  did 
not  satisfy  her,  however,  for  there  was  the  evidence  of 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  143 

the  erasure.  She  wrote  a  new  initial  page,  only  to 
discover  that  this  fresh  sheet  showed,  plainer  than 
ever,  the  trick  she  was  trying  to  play.  So  she  wrote 
the  MS.  all  over  again,  from  beginning  to  end.  This 
done,  she  posted  the  package  with  a  beating  heart. 


WHEN  the  circuit  court  was  in  session  and  the 
day  set  for  the  much-talked-of  trial  had  ar- 
rived, a  large  concourse  of  people  was  disappointed  ; 
the  cause  was  continued  by  the  defendant  on  account 
of  an  absent  witness.  This  delay  carried  the  trial  for- 
ward to  the  spring  term. 

Milford  felt  a  sudden  waft  of  relief  pass  over  his 
brain,  like  a  soothing  breath.  The  fair,  troubled,  boy- 
ish face  of  young  Hempstead,  the  prisoner,  had  affected 
him  deeply,  as  it  shone,  half-frightened,  half-bewil- 
dered among  the  careless  countenances  of  the  encir- 
cling lawyers.  It  may  have  been  that  the  presence  of 
a  criminal  advocate  of  almost  world-wide  fame,  a  man 
of  giant  frame  and  leonine  face,  added  something  to 
Milford's  dread.  Not  that  he  was  a  timid  man,  but 
he  felt  that  all  the  advantage  of  personal  prestige  and 
of  popular  expectation  lay  with  the  famous  lawyer; 
whilst  he,  all  untried  and  undeveloped,  had  nothing  in 
his  favor  beyond  the  cold,  cruel  demands  of  legal  jus- 
tice. 

Young  Hempstead,  the  murderer,  was  small  of  stat- 
ure, with  deep-set  eyes  and  a  waxen  face,  jet-black 
hair  and  uneven  teeth  ;    but  his  expression  was  not 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  I45 

wicked,  much  less  cruel.     The  close  observer  would 
note  in  the  thick  lips  and  broad  chin  the  key  to  the 
boy's  character — where  passionate  impulses  ruled  in 
the  place  of  moral  force — a  character  not  dangerous  to 
others,  as  a  rule,  but  prone  to  feeding  upon  its  own 
vitals,  so  to  speak ;  a  sensuous  nature  devoid  of  self- 
poise  and  without  any  understanding  of  moral  respon- 
sibility in  its  widest  meaning;  one  of  a  large  class  of 
criminals,  indeed,  who   are    supremely  selfish,  rather 
than  hopelessly  depraved,  and  whose  crimes  have  their 
source  in  uncontrollable  passions.     His  case  was  an 
instance  of  the  debatable  sort  where  the  question  of 
hereditary  weakness,  or   obscure  nervous  disease,  or 
still  more  remote  psychal  lesion,  may  arise  in  the  ultra- 
humane  mind   of  the  investigator.     Few,  indeed,  are 
the  lawyers  of  extensive  practice  who  have  not,  over 
and  over  again,  dissected,  all  in  vain,  problems  of  this 
sort.     The    irresistible    trend    of    certain    characters 
toward  crime,  how  shall  we  make  it  consist  with  re- 
sponsibility?    Shall  we  hang  a  human  being  by  the 
neck  until  he  die  because  his  nerve-centers  have  be- 
come incurably  diseased,  or  because  some  hereditary 
seed  of  crime  ripen  in  his  soul  ?    Probe  as  we  may,  we 
shall  never  be  able  to  find  the  secret  roots  of  insanity, 
or  the  original  fountain  of  transgression,  nor  shall  we 
ever  purify  life  by  the  processes  of  the  criminal  law; 
and    yet    we   must   remain  inexorable,  for  fear  that 
any    relaxation  of   punishment  may  tend  to  develop 


146  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

myriads  of  incipient,  hitherto  retarded,  cancers  of  the 
soul. 

The  spring  drew  on,  opening  unusually  early,  with 
a  dash  of  green  on  the  buck-eye  trees  and  a  pinkish 
snow  of  claytonias  on  the  warm  southward  slopes  of 
the  woods.  May  had  scarcely  come  when  a  real 
breath  of  summer  swept  over  the  broad,  beautiful  val- 
ley of  the  Wabash.  Bankersville  responded  to  the 
fervor  of  the  weather  with  all  the  vim  and  enthusiasm 
of  a  true  Western  town.  The  maple  trees  that  shaded 
the  streets  were  not  more  gayly  clothed  than  were  the 
prosperous  people  who  strolled  in  the  avenues,  or  rode, 
or  drove,  along  the  well-kept  streets  and  bloom-scented 
suburban  lanes.  Everywhere  was  color ;  it  was  as  if 
the  new  school  in  art  had  exemplified  its  theory  in 
the  purity,  the  brilliancy,  and  the  variety  of  color, 
effects  noticeable  any  afternoon  on  the  broad,  fashion- 
able boulevard  where  the  mothers,  nurse-girls,  misses 
and  young  ladies  of  Bankersville  seemed  fairly  to  float 
in  the  ravishing  air,  like  a  cloud  of  wavering  butterflies. 

Say  what  may  be  said  in  all  truth  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  most  jaundiced  observer,  and  yet  the  fact 
remains  that  the  typical  Western  town  is  full  of  thrift 
and  energy  and  is  haunted  by  happy  people.  If  some 
itinerant  philosopher  there  be  wandering  the  world 
over  in  search  of  a  truly  charming  instance  of  happi- 
ness in  the  home  life,  let  him  go  visit  a  Western  town. 
There  he  may  turn   from  any  broad,  clean  street  and 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  147 

pass  through  the  first  newly-painted  gate  into  an 
earthly  Eden,  where  love  is  alive  and  healthy,  and 
where  the  kisses  of  pure  lips  have  made  the  air  good 
to  breathe.  Nor  is  culture,  of  a  free-hand,  liberal, 
sketchy  sort,  wanting.  There  are  books  and  maga- 
zines and  art-journals,  along  with  blushing  bits  of 
embroidery  and  some  pleasing  touches  of  decorative 
arrangement  in  hangings  and  furniture.  The  piano 
here,  the  organ  there,  a  guitar,  perhaps,  often  a  violin, 
sometimes  a  banjo,  assert  a  musical  taste  quite 
advanced  and  general.  True,  the  Western  town  is  not 
conventional,  its  accent  is  rather  broad  and  raw  to  the 
ears  of  over-nice  people,  but  it  has  viviality  in  its 
character  and  sincerity  of  purpose  in  all  it  says  and 
does ;  from  all  of  which  it  results  that  a  Western  town 
is  open  to  the  operations  of  the  swindler  and  the 
adventurer.  The  desire  to  get  on  in  the  world,  make 
money,  amass  property,  was  as  active  and  general  in 
Bankersville  as  ever  it  was  in  any  town,  and  side  by 
side  with  this  desire  ran  a  swift  current  of  progress  in 
all  manner  of  extravagances  which  may  be  called 
polite.  The  women  knew  how  to  dress,  the  men  knew 
how  to  use  fine  horses  and  showy  equipages  to  the  best 
effect,  and  how  to  build  beautiful  houses.  Bankersville 
had  a  strong  bicycle  club,  a  famous  base-ball  nine, 
some  very  fast  horses  and  a  much  patronized  skating 
rink,  to  say  nothing  of  the  bucket-shop,  that  peculiar 
outlier  of  the  Chicago  speculating  machine. 


X40  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

This  Spring  Bankerville  was,  to  use  the  phrase  of  a 
real-estate  agent,  "  on  a  general  boom,"  and,  in  many 
ways,  Lawson  was  the  exciting  cause  of  the  great  furor 
for  out-lots  just  now  so  prevalent.  He  was  platting 
addition  after  addition  to  the  town  (city,  with  a  big 
C,  the  Bankersville  people  preferred  to  say),  and  the 
prices  of  lots  were  increasing  in  a  way  to  captivate  the 
public.  In  a  word,  every  body  was  speculating,  more 
or  less,  either  in  out-lots  or  through  the  bucket-shop  or 
directly  in  Chicago.  Somehow  Lawson  was  the  spirit 
and  core  of  it  all ;  his  schemes  were  almost  numberless, 
and  no  one  besides  himself  knew  how  far  they  reached. 
One  thing  the  whole  public  knew  of,  however,  his  great 
liberality  to  churches,  schools  and  charities.  He  was 
extremely  popular,  though,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he 
had  made  some  pronounced  enemies.  Milford,  not- 
withstanding a  steadily  growing  law  practice  and  the 
load  imposed  upon  him  by  the  pending  murder  case, 
had  been  drawn,  by  an  irresistible  fascination,  into 
literature  deeper  and  deeper.  He  had  even  gone  so 
far  as  to  begin  publishing  poems  and  stories  over  his 
own  name  in  one  of  the  Eastern  monthly  magazines, 
and  it  is  but  fair  to  add  that  he  had  attracted  the  most 
favorable  attention  of  the  critics.  Not  that  he  was  in 
the  way  of  becoming  famous,  for,  account  for  it  as  we 
may,  the  provincial  writer  usually  reaches  success  by 
the  longest  route.  He  is  regarded  by  the  clubs  and 
coteries  of  the  great  literary  centers  as  a  sort  of  free- 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  149 

lance  ridirtg  uninvited  into  the  lists  of  authorship,  and 
against  his  queer-fitting  armor  and  outlandish  trap- 
pings are  hurled  the  arrows,  javelins  and  catapult- 
missiles  of  all  the  wits  who  chance  to  observe  him. 
He  feels  that,  in  a  degree,  he  is  an  Ishmaelite,  and  is 
quite  too  ready  to  fight  all  comers.  Herein,  perhaps, 
lies  the  secret  of  your  provincial's  solemn,  humorless 
earnestness  of  effort,  his  tendency  to  view  his  calling 
as  the  whole  of  life,  and  his  inability  to  compass  the 
lighter  details  of  art. 

Miss  Crabb,  observing  Milford's  apparent  literary 
progress,  often  came  to  him  for  a  species  of  comfort 
very  dear  to  the  literary  aspirant — sympathy.  She 
brought  him  Arthur  Selby's  answer  to  her  note  that 
had  accompanied  her  MS.  story.  She  was  very  con- 
fiding. 

"  Read  it,  please,"  she  said  with  a  slight  frown  of  per- 
plexity. "  I  can't  just  gather  what  he  means.  He 
returns  my  story,  but,  at  the  same  time,  seems  to  wish 
to  publish  it.     What  do  you  make  of  it  ?  " 

Milford  read  as  follows : 


New  York 

"My  dear  Miss  Crabb: 

"My  thanks  are  due  you  for  allow- 
ing me  to  see  your  story,  and  I  must  apologize  for  the 
delay.  So  many  good  things  are  sent  us,  and  we  have 
room  for  so  few,  that  I  am  perplexed  all  the  time.  I 
wish  I  could  use  every  good  story  I  get,  and  especially 


15^  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

those  sent  me  by  my  friends.     Your  story  has  many 
good  points  2.ndi  your  woi7ten  are  not  in  the  least  insipid. 
Pray  remember  me  to  Dr.  Wilton's  household. 
"  Faithfully  yours, 

"Arthur  Selby." 

**  What  a  good  memory  he  must  have,"  she  said,  as 
Milford  looked  up  from  finishing  the  note.  **  That  last 
sentence  refers  to  a  thing  I  told  him  when  he  was  here. 
Do  you  suppose  he  refused  my  story  because  I  criti- 
cised the  women  of  his  novels?" 

"  The  ways  of  an  editor  are  past  finding  out,"  Mil- 
ford  responded.  **  It  would  be  useless  to  try  to  get 
at  Mr.  Selby's  feelings  through  his  letter." 

"It's  a  very  cordial  note,  I  think,  don't  you?"  she 
ventured.     "It  is  full  of  sympathy." 

Milford  looked  at  her  and  could  not  have  the  heart 
to  put  a  damper  on  her  hope.  She  was  evidently 
encouraged  by  the  tone  of  the  editor*s  communica- 
tion. 

"  It  is  a  wonder  he  wrote  at  all,"  he  said,  deceitfully, 
avoiding  her  inquiry.  "  Most  editors  have  a  way  of 
using  printed  slips,  you  know." 

"  Indeed  I  do  know,"  she  laughingly  replied. 
"  Those  hateful  printed  forms  are  photographed  on 
my  memory  forever." 

"  I  have  seen  them,"  Milford  rejoined,  dryly.  "They 
are  poor  consolers." 

Miss  Crabb  went  away  puzzled,  but  in  good  spirits, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  151 

feeling  that  she  was  just  a  little  nearer  the  goal  of  her 
literary  aspirations ;  for,  of  all  the  world,  an  unsophis- 
ticated literary  person  is  the  most  defenseless  against 
insidious  deceits  practiced  by  the  average  moral 
diplomat.  If  Keats  really  did  not  die  of  a  critic's 
stab,  the  danger  still  remains  that  a  strong  dose  of 
fraudulent  praise  may  kill  the  usefulness  of  a  good  scrive- 
ner who  has  ventured  to  try  a  literary  flight.  Some- 
thing pathetic,  and  yet  not  too  pathetic  for  a  touch  of 
humor,  runs  through  this  provincial  cacoethes  scribendi 
which  is  found  in  some  stage  affecting  the  social 
atmosphere  of  almost  every  town  in  the  West.  If  the 
country  can  get  safely  through  the  incipient  stages, 
the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  malady,  something 
really  excellent  may  come  of  all  this  provincial  liter- 
ary travail.  Be  this  as  it  may,  no  history  of  social 
life  in  a  Western  town  is  at  all  complete  with  the 
element  of  literary  ambition  left  out.  The  inglorious 
Miltons  and  Sapphos  of  Kokomo  and  Kalamazoo  are 
by  no  means  mute,  and  their  undying  desire  is  to  not 
remain  always  inglorious. 

An  artistic  temperament  has  never  been  accounted 
the  best  for  a  successful  man  of  affairs,  notwithstand- 
ing that  a  great  many  writers  within  the  last  half- 
century  have  been  auteurs  d' argent.  Setting  up  a 
literary  shop,  wherein  the  author  sits  and  dictates  to 
the  stenographer  and  to  the  girl  who  fingers  the  type- 
writer, is  now  quite  an  easy  thing  to  the  popular  nov- 


152  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

elist ;  but  your  novelist  has  come  to  be  sui  generis^ 
and  he  is  no  longer  an  artist  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word.  Art  is  not  compassed  by  machinery.  A  soul 
can  not  be  photographed.  But  the  statement  may  be 
diluted  so  as  to  include  the  merely  literary  tempera- 
ment, and  still  the  assertion  will  hold  good ;  for  the 
literary  man  is  not  the  man,  as  a  rule,  to  be  successful 
in  business  affairs.  The  world  has  sealed  this  truth, 
and  the  provincial  author  is  made  to  feel  that  the 
autorial  life  is  one  of  questionable  propriety  for  a  man. 
The  country  town  looks  upon  its  poet  as  upon  a  good 
but  rather  disreputable  joke ;  it  is  proud  of  him,  in  a 
certain  way,  just  as  it  is  proud  of  its  five-legged  calf, 
because  he  is  often  mentioned  in  the  newspapers,  but 
it  is  obscurely  ashamed  of  him  as  well,  believing  him 
to  be  a  sort  of  fun-bundle  for  the  rest  of  the  world. 
It  expects  a  shiftless  career  of  him,  and  smiles  askance 
whenever  he  puts  on  a  new  coat.  So  deep-seated  and 
pervading  is  the  popular  prejudice  in  this  connection 
that  nothing,  not  even  moral  obliquity,  can  hinder  a 
professional  man,  a  lawyer,  for  instance,  more  than  to 
have  it  known  that  he  has  dipped  his  office-pen  in 
literary  ink.  Milford  understood  this,  but  he  went  on, 
taking  a  willful  pleasure  in  thus  tampering  with  the 
current  of  his  fortune.  He  could  not  feel  sure  of  his 
literary  gift,  nor  was  he  able  to  quite  justify  himself  in 
his  lukewarm  treatment  of  his  legal  vocation,  and  yet 
he  found  himself  getting  more  and  more  under  the 


A  BA NKER  OF  BA NKERS  VILLE.  1 5  3 

spell  of  a  rather  vague  literar>^  ambition.  It  appeared 
so  much  better  suited  to  his  tastes  to  be  able  to  make 
his  effects  by  silent  and  gentle  means,  than  to  have  to 
depend  upon  a  species  of  physical  superiority  to  which 
no  genuine  gentleman  will  appeal  save  in  cases  of  the 
highest  and  most  urgent  need.  Perhaps,  after  all,  an 
enlightened  conscience  is  the  generator  of  art,  and  it 
may  be  that  such  a  conscience  recoils  from  the  shock 
of  certain  business  methods  usually  deemed  fair  and 
just ;  hence  the  world,  which  cares  not  much  for  con- 
science of  any  sort,  may  look  upon  the  artistic  temper- 
ament as  effeminate  and  nerveless,  as  proof  positive, 
in  other  words,  of  the  absence  of  virility,  and  the 
world  may  be  right. 

Milford  was  all  the  time  over-conscious  that  the 
public  mind  was  sensitive  to  the  great  difference 
between  his  measure  of  success  and  that  of  his  part- 
ner, and  he  could  not  fail  to  see  that  this  difference 
precisely  indicated  the  ratio  of  his  public  influence  to 
that  of  Lawson.  He  knew  how  largely,  how  almost 
wholly,  Lawson's  rise  had  been  a  matter  of  mere  luck ; 
still  the  man  himself  had,  Milford  was  aware,  added  a 
strange  force  and  picturesqueness  to  each  turn  of  for- 
tune's wheel,  so  that  his  victories  had  not  lacked  the 
subtle  influence,  the  elusive  fascination  of  the  strokes 
of  audacious  genius. 

"  I  have  never  asked  you  to  join  me  in  any  of  my 
ventures,  Milford,"  Lawson  said  one  day — it  was  about 


154  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

the  time  that  the  real-estate  furor  was  at  its  height— 
"and  the  reason  has  been  that  you  have  seemed  to 
look  upon  speculation  as  immoral.  You  might  have 
made  just  as  much  money  as  I  have,  if  you  had  been 
willing  to  take  the  risks  I  have  taken." 

While  Lawson  was  speaking,  his  huge  watch-seal,  his 
showy  rings,  and  his  splendid  diamond  pin  attracted 
Milford's  attention  for  the  first  time,  and  then  he  went 
on  to  note  how  stout  Lawson  had  grown,  and  how 
thick  his  neck  was.  It  was  easy  enough  now  to  see 
that  Lawson,  although  still  smooth-shaven,  was  no 
longer  boyish  in  appearance ;  there  was  something 
heavy  and  cold  behind  the  genial  surface  of  his  counte- 
nance. 

"  I  am  quite  satisfied,"  said  Milford ;  **  I'm  doing 
well  enough." 

"  Oh,  certainly  you  are  ;  you  are  doing  well,  consid- 
ering the  draw-back  under  which  you  labor ;  but  I  have 
thought  that  your  true  field  is  literature  and  that  if 
you  had  money,  which  means  leisure,  you  might  give 
full  rein  to  your  ambition  in  that  direction.**  Lawson 
spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  but  his  voice  had  a  ring 
of  cordial  friendship  that  touched  Milford.  "  Now,  in 
all  frankness,"  he  continued,  "am  I  not  quite  right?" 

"  No  doubt  you  generalize  well,"  said  Milford,  "  but 
it  is  too  much  to  assume  that  what  one  man  has  done 
another  may  do.  The  circumstances  of  no  two  per- 
sons are  identical  or  mathematically  equivalent,  even ; 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  I55 

and,  besides,  I  am  not  endowed  with  a  genius  for — " 
he  was  about  to  say  gambHng,  but  substituted :  "  guess- 
ing lucky  numbers." 

Lawson  laughed,  rightly  interpreting  Milford's  mean- 
ing, but  dashed  at  once  boldly  at  his  purpose. 

'*  Well,  there's  a  sure  thing  in  lard  now  in  Chicago, 
and  I  suggest  to  you  that  a  small  deal  will  make  you 
big  money." 

"  I  can  not  do  it,"  responded  Milford,  with  the  em- 
phasis of  one  who  spurns  a  temptation. 

*'  Let  me  do  it  for  you,  then,"  urged  Lawson,  rising 
as  if  to  go.  "  It's  a  dead  sure  thing.  A  thousand  dol- 
lars will  make  you  twenty  thousand,  if  closely  followed 
up,  inside  of  fifteen  days." 

"  No,"  answered  Milford ;  "  I  thank  you,  but  I  will 
not  do  it." 

Lawson  stood  for  a  minute  in  silence,  then,  with  an- 
other laugh,  exclaimed  : 

**  Well,  lend  me  all  the  money  you  have  for  a  few 
days ;  I  can  use  it  to  good  effect  in  my  own  behalf." 

Milford  looked  up  from  the  book  before  him  and 
with  genuine  inquiry  demanded  : 

"  Do  you  really  wish  it  ?     Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  most  assuredly.  I  can't  bear  to  see  capital 
lying  idle."  Lawson  laughed  again  as  he  said  this, 
then  added  in  a  tone  of  business :  "■  Why,  I  could  use 
a  million  dollars  to-day.  I  could  double  the  money  in 
three  days." 


156  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Milford  took  his  bank-book  from  a  drawer  of  his 
desk,  and,  after  a  glamce  at  his  balance,  wrote  a  check 
for  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  which  represented  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  savings. 

Lawson  pocketed  the  paper,  with  a  peculiar  smile, 
and  went  out  of  the  office. 

It  is  but  fair  to  state  that  Milford  did  not  chance  to 
consider  that  Lawson  was  going  to  use  this  money  in 
gambling  on  the  price  of  lard  in  Chicago.  He  viewed 
the  loan  in  the  light  of  a  friendly  bit  of  accommoda- 
tion ;  but  after  Lawson  was  gone,  the  thought  arose  in 
Milford's  mind  :  "  What  if  Lawson  is  on  the  verge  of 
financial  ruin  !  What  if  he  is  clutching  at  such  a  straw 
of  salvation  as  this  small  sum  offers  !  "  Then  he  felt 
a  flush  of  shame  come  up  in  his  face  as  he  found  his  re- 
flections taking  a  narrow,  selfish  turn.  Let  the  money 
go,  he  could  live  without  it !  Did  he  not  owe  every 
thing  to  Lawson  ? 


XL 

McGINNIS  and  Lawson  had  continued  to  stand 
together  in  financial  affairs  ;  and  by  degrees  Law- 
son  had  managed  to  get  a  large  interest  in  the  bank  of 
which  McGinnis  was  the  chief  spirit.  The  name 
banker  has,  of  itself,  a  great  value  in  a  Western  town : 
it  suggests  a  wealth  quite  different  from  any  other,  and 
associates  itself  with  the  thought  of  social  solidity  and 
limitless  financial  responsibility.  So  that  when  Law- 
son  got  to  be  a  banker  he  had  gained  the  right  to  be 
regarded  with  complacent  confidence  by  the  larger 
part  of  the  Bankersville  people.  True,  there  were 
those  among  the  staid  conservatives  who  shook  their 
heads  and  furtively  predicted  his  downfall ;  but  his 
following  included  nearly  all  the  wide-awake,  ambi- 
tious, pushing  business  men  of  the  town.  Milford,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  he  had  in  many  ways  disclosed 
sterling  qualities  as  a  citizen  and  excellent  abilities  as 
a  lawyer,  attracted  little  notice  and  was  allowed  to  go 
along  as  best  he  could.  Miss  Crabb  copied  in  the 
News  all  his  contributions  to  the  magazines,  with  favor- 
able editorial  notices  of  them  ;  but  this  was  a  positive 
hurt  to  him.  Often  he  was  at  the  point  of  asking  her 
to  quit  this  friendly  turn,   but  he  could  not  do  it;  she 


158  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

seemed  to  regard  it  as  such  a  pleasant  duty,  that  to 
deny  it  to  her  he  felt  would  be  almost  brutal. 

''  If  I  was  you,  Mr.  Milford,  I'll  be  dern  if  I'd  write 
any  more  of  them  little  pomes,"  said  a  kind-hearted  and 
observant  farmer-friend  to  him  one  day  in  the  office. 

Lawson  was  present  and  laughed  uproariously. 

"  Well,  you  may  laugh,"  added  the  speaker,  '*  but  I 
mean  it.  'Course  the  pomes  is  all  right  'nough,  but 
the  folks  in  these  parts  don't  take  up  with  the  idee  of 
a  grown  man  a-foolin*  away  his  time  at  sech  doin's. 
Mr.  Milford  ort  to  go  to  Congress  in  this  deestric',  an* 
he  c'u'd  go  ef  he'd  quit  poetry  an*  git  right  down  to 
business.  Fac',  shore*  you  live,  he  c'u'd  do  it  like  a 
dern."  As  he  finished  speaking,  the  farmer  bit  off  a 
quid  from  a  plug  of  black  tobacco  in  a  manner  which 
emphasized  his  earnestness. 

"  I  should  redouble  my  efforts  in  the  poetical  field," 
said  Milford,  very  kindly,  ''if  I  thought  it  would  ward 
off  any  danger  of  my  getting  into  politics." 

"  Gittin'  into  politics,"  echoed  the  farmer,  a  petulant 
ring  noticeable  in  his  voice  as  he  looked  almost  ill- 
naturedly  at  Milford.  *'  Every  man  'at's  any  account 
has  to  be — he's  jest  obliged  to  be  in  politics.  Dern 
me,  if  I  was  educated,  I'd  git  there,  an*  don't  ye  for- 
git  it,  nuther  !  " 

**  Statesmanship,  as  it  now  exists,  is  not  fascinating 
to  me,"  replied  Milford  carelessly,  feeling  no  interest 
in  the  conversation. 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  159 

"Oh,  well,  go  on  with  your  hard-head  an'  see  what 
ye'll  come  to  with  your  dern  little  pomes.  I  don't  keen" 

Milford  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  hain't  got  my  spunk,  young  man,"  con- 
tinued the  farmer  in  a  deprecatory  tone,  and  letting  fly 
a  stream  of  dark  juice  from  the  mass  of  his  shaggy 
beard,  "  not  by  a  dern  sight.  If  I  wus  you  I'd  git  to 
Congress  or  I'd  bust  a  swingletree.  'Taint  no  use  a 
foolin'  away  yer  chances  on  them  pomes.  It's  too  much 
like  a  woman's  doin's." 

•'  Upon  the  whole,"  said  Lawson,  when  the  farmer 
had  taken  his  leave,  "  the  old  fellow  was  about  right. 
This  literary  business  is  death  on  your  prospects  as  a 
lawyer.     The  people  will  have  none  of  it." 

"The  people  can't  help  themselves,"  responded 
Milford ;  and  at  that  moment  a  woman  came  into  the 
office  and  stopped  near  the  door,  where  she  stood  look- 
ing timidly  and  forlornly  back  and  forth  from  one  of 
the  men  to  the  other.  She  was  about  fifty  years  old 
apparently, — sallow,  thin-visaged  and  gray-haired. 
Her  dress  was  neat  and  of  rather  costly  material, 
while  her  air  was  that  of  a  person  who,  unused  to 
society  and  the  ways  of  the  world,  had  found  herself 
in  a  place  where  she  felt  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
Lawson,  as  was  his  way  whenever  a  client  came  in, 
rose  and  went  down  into  the  street.  Milford  politely 
offered  a  chair  to  the  woman  ;  she  sank  into  it  with  an 
audible  sigh. 


i6o  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  Are  you  the  lawyer  ?  "  she  inquired,  her  voice  thin 
and  quavering.  She  fumbled  nervously  about  the 
neck-band  of  her  dress. 

"Yes,  I  am  a  lawyer;  my  name  is  Milford,"  he 
answered  ;    "  do  you  wish  to " 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,"  she  quickly  exclaimed,  before  he 
could  finish  the  sentence,  lifting  her  pale  eyes  to  his 
and  letting  them  fall  again  immediately.  Her  breath- 
ing was  hurried  and  her  lips  quivered.  Twice  she 
tried  to  speak  further,  faltering  and  failing  each  time. 

Milford  took  a  seat  near  her  and  said,  in  a  reassuring 
tone : 

"  Do  not  be  excited,  perhaps  you  will  speak  more 
easily  after  you  have  rested  a  moment ;  our  stairway 
is  very  steep." 

She  held  a  little  leather  bag  in  one  hand,  which  she 
turned  over  and  over  on  her  lap  with  a  nervous,  hesita- 
ting motion. 

"  I  thought  I  might  come  and  see  you,  as  it  wouldn't 
be  no  harm,"  she  said  at  length,  carrying  her  unoc- 
cupied hand  to  her  throat  again,  where  a  small  black 
band  was  fastened  by  a  large  gold  pin,  in  which  was  set 
the  photograph  of  a  man's  face  ;  "  but  I  don't  know  as 
it  can  do  any  good." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  any  thing  I  can  for  you,"  he 
said.     "  Speak  freely  to  me,  please." 

"He  didn't  know  I  come  here,"  she  went  on,"  I 
come  of  my  own  accord.     I   felt  like  I  must  come,  if, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  i6l 

if — if  it  killed  me.  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  say — to 
say  to  you  !  "  She  broke  down  and  sobbed  hysteri- 
cally, her  slight  form  shivering  strangely.  ''  Oh,  it's  so 
hard,  so  hard  !  " 

Milford  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  ;  he  felt  that 
her  distress  must  be  too  deep  for  any  relief  he  could 
offer.  She  was  a  pathetic  picture  as  she  cowered 
there. 

"  Tell  me  your  trouble,"  he  finally  ventured,  his  voice 
conveying  his  sympathy,  "  and  I  will  see  what  I  can 
do  for  you." 

''  You  don't  know  me — you  don't  know  who  I  am. 
He's  my  boy — I'm  his  mother,"  she  explained,  in  a 
gasping  way. 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ?  "  he  gently  inquired. 
**  Who  is  your  son  ?     Is  he  in  trouble  ?  " 

"  Billy  Hempstead — I'm  his  mother,  I  want  to  see 
you  about  him." 

"  Hempstead  !  you  do  not  mean  the  young  man  in 
the  jail ;  the  one  I  am  prosecuting  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  him— oh !  " 

Milford  felt  a  cold  sweat  coming  out  on  his  fore- 
head and  his  heart  sank  within  hire,  as  he  gazed  at 
the  poor  broken-hearted  woman,  whose  ey?^,  pale  and 
almost  expressionless,  seemed  to  burn  without  light. 

''  Indeed,  madam,  I  can  not  talk  with  you  about  him  ; 
it  is  out  of  my  power.  I  can  not  think  of  it,"  he 
exclaimed,  speaking  hurriedly,  almost  at-random  ;   **  I 


l62  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

am  employed  against  him.  I  am  sorry,  but  our  inter- 
view must  end  here."    He  rose,  thinking  she  would  go. 

She  did  not  move,  however.  She  nervously  fum- 
bled the  clasp  of  her  bag  ;  her  sallow  face  had  grown 
ghastly  and  its  wrinkles  had  deepened. 

"  Oh,  sir,  here's  all  the  money  I  could  get,"  she 
wailed,  drawing  forth  from  the  bag  a  roll  of  bills  and 
holding  it  toward  him ;  "  I  want  to  fee  you  to  be  my 
lawyer.  I'll  get  you  more,  I've  got  a  farm  in  my  own 
name,  I'll  mortgage  that,  I'll " 

"  Stop,  Mrs.  Hempstead,  stop,  I  can  not  listen. 
You  must  understand  that  it  is  quite  impossible,"  he 
said,  interrupting  her.  "  You  do  not  comprehend  what 
you  are  trying  to  do.     You  do  not  wish  to " 

**  Yes,  yes,  I  do,  too.  I  know  all  I  am  doing,  and  I 
don't  care  for  the  money.  Oh,  I'd  give  the  whole 
world  to  save  him, — he's  my  baby,  my  only  boy  !  Take 
it,  take  it !  "  She  still  held  the  money  toward  him, 
her  hand  shaking  as  if  palsied.  A  purplish  spot  appeared 
on  either  cheek,  adding  something  almost  terrible  to 
her  expression. 

"  I  appreciate  your  situation,  I  sympathize  with 
you,  indeed  I  do,  Mrs.  Hempstead ;  but  I  can  not  take 
your  money  or  do  any  thing  for  you  whatever.  I  am 
powerless.  You  must  go  to  the  lawyers  for  the 
defense,"  he  said,  speaking  rapidly  and  firmly, — cruelly 
it  seemed  to  him.  He  turned  his  eyes  away  from  her, 
unable  to  bear  the  burning  agony  of  her  countenance. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  163 

"  But  you  won't  make  them  kill  my  poor,  poor  boy — 
my  only  one  ?  Oh,  Mr.  Milford,  for  the  good  Lord's 
sake,  have  mercy  on  him  and  me !  He  hain't  done 
nothing  to  you  ;  what  have  you  got  against  him  ?  I 
will  pay  you  twice  as  much  as  they  will — all  I've  got  in 
the  world  shall  be  yours !  " 

She  tottered  to  her  feet  and  stood  swaying  to  and 
fro  before  him.  "  I  feel  like  you  had  his  life  in  your 
hands — you  can  save  him,  I  know  you  can,  and  he's 
all  I've  got.     My  baby-boy!      My  precious    child!" 

''  You  must  go  away,  madam  ;  it  is  very  wrong  for 
you  to  be  here,"  Milford  exclaimed  in  a  hoarse  voice. 
"Go  away  from  me,  please."  Words  failed  him  ;  his 
mind  was  inoperative  ;  he  was  without  tact  or  expedient 
with  which  to  escape  from  the  predicament.  He  took 
her  gently  by  the  arm  and  tried  to  turn  her  toward  the 
door.  Just  then  a  footfall  sounded  on  the  stairs,  and 
in  a  moment  a  short,  stout  man  came  in  briskly,  with 
the  air  of  one  in  a  great  hurry.  His  thin,  stubby 
beard  and  upright  iron-gray  hair  added  accent  to  the 
peculiar  expression  of  energy  that  shot  from  his  face. 
He  was  clad  in  a  farmer's  work-a-day  clothes. 

"W'y,  Marthy,  what  you  here  for?  I've  been  a 
huntin*  ye  all  over  town,  an*  finally  Downs  he  told  me 
he  seen  ye  come  up  here.     What's  the  matter?" 

The  woman  glanced  at  him  as  he  stepped  into  the 
room,  then  cowered  before  him  in  silence,  almost  sink- 
ing to  the  floor.     He  walked  up  to  her  and  took  hold 


1 64  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

of  her  with  rough  kindness.  There  was  something 
like  melancholy  behind  the  outward  expression  of  his 
face  ;  it  made  itself  felt  in  his  voice  as  he  said,  aside  to 
Milford : 

"  She's  'most  distracted,  lawyer,  she  takes  it  awful 
hard.     Mus'n't  notice  her." 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Hempstead,"  Milford 
managed  to  say  ;  *'  it  is  very  embarrassing  to  me.  I'm 
powerless,  you  know,  and  can  not  afford  to  talk  to  her. 
It  would  be  dishonorable,  as  well  as  unprofessional." 

"  Certainly,  lawyer,  I  know  how  you're  fixed.  You're 
hired,  jest  as  I  hire  a  hand  to  work  in  the  field,  and 
you've  got  to  earn  your  livin' ;  I  don't  think  hard  of 
you  ;  but  the  weemin,  they  don't  rightly  git  at  the 
p'int,  they  don't  see  it  in  that  light.  Come  on,  Marthy, 
let's  be  a-goin."  He  wasted  no  words,  but  led  her 
away  forthwith.  She  turned  her  face  as  she  passed 
through  the  door  and  gave  Milford  a  look  he  never  can 
forget ;  a  look  of  abject,  unutterable  despair. 

The  lawyer  walked  back  and  forth  in  his  ofHce  in  a 
mood  far  from  pleasant.  Taking  the  best  view  of  what 
he  had  just  passed  through,  it  left  him  in  no  enviable 
or  even  desirable  situation.  Somehow,  the  sentence 
uttered  by  Mr.  Hempstead:  ''You're  hired,  jest  as  I 
hire  a  hand  to  work  in  the  field,  and  you've  got  to  earn 
your  livin',"  kept  repeating  itself,  accent  and  all,  in  his 
mind.  He  went  and  stood  by  a  window  overlooking 
the  street  and  the  court-house  square.     Quite  a  crowd 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  165 

of  men  had  collected  around  a  stand  from  which  Downs 
was  **  crying  "  a  sale  for  the  county  sheriff.  A  lot  of 
forlorn  looking  household  plunder,  bedsteads,  chairs, 
tables,  an  old  stove  and  a  heap  of  crockery-ware,  lay 
on  the  ground,  awaiting  the  last  act  in  the  tragedy  of 
debt.  This  was  the  end  of  a  petty  foreclosure  suit, 
the  final  work  of  a  small  chattel  mortgage.  The  debtor 
stood  by,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking  rather 
indifferently  disconsolate.  Milford's  state  of  mind 
rendered  him  acutely  receptive  of  the  effects  this 
picture  might  produce.  He  was  ready,  for  the  mo- 
ment, to  say  that  the  lawyer's  life  is  the  life  of  a  vam- 
pyre  ;  he  lives  by  drawing  out  the  life-blood  from  his 
fellows-beings.  It  may  be  assumed  that  most  men,  at 
one  time  or  another,  suffer  such  a  mood  as  this  to  cast 
a  jaundiced  light  over  their  affairs,  making  the  struggle 
for  mere  bread  appear  little  better  than  a  robber's 
work;  but  the  imagination  is  closely  connected  with 
the  conscience,  and  a  man  like  Milford  sees  things  in 
a  light  not  afforded  by  the  merely  practical  mind. 

*'  WhoVe  they  sellin*  out  over  there  }  "  he  heard  some 
one  call  out  in  the  street  below. 

'*  Tom  Curry,"  another  responded. 

*'Well,  that's  the  way  it  goes,"  said  the  first;  "it's  all 
in  a  life-time." 

"  Tom  orter  had  better  luck,"  gruffly  interposed  a 
third  voice. 

There  was  a  laugh  and  the  sale  went  on.     Milford 


1 66  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

could  hear  the  crudely  humorous  sayings  of  the  auc- 
tioneer, the  bids  and  counter-bids,  and  the  rough  jokes 
of  the  bystanders.  He  wondered  how  Tom  Curry  felt 
under  the  strain  of  the  misfortune  ;  wondered  if  the 
man  had  a  wife  and  little  children  to  suffer  with  him. 
He  imagined  a  lean,  work-worn  woman  with  little, 
toddling,  half-starved  children  pulling  at  her  skirts. 
To-night  they  would  have  no  bed,  no  stove,  no  table, 
no  food,  and  all  on  account  of  the  law  and  lawyers. 

*'  Bah !  "  he  shook  himself  and  tried  to  smile  at  the 
ghastly  and  jaundiced  picture  he  had  conjured  up. 
Indeed,  he  did  smile  and  wonder  why  he  had  allowed 
such  things  to  affect  him  so  deeply.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  conscious,  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  of  a  lingering 
disquietude  of  mind,  a  sense  of  depression  and  dullness 
that  rendered  study  impossible.  It  was  as  if  he 
doubted  himself  and  were  afraid  to  go  on. 

That  evening  he  went  to  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  to  look  in  upon  the  social,  that  pleasant  in- 
stitution which  has  done  so  much  for  the  world,  espe- 
cially in  the  West.  He  was  late  arriving,  having  con- 
sumed on  extra  hour  at  his  boarding-house  in  giving 
instructions  and  advice  to  Downs  and  Mrs.  O'Slaugh- 
tery,  touching  a  purchase  of  some  real  estate  they 
were  on  the  point  of  making  in  a  joint  way.  Law- 
son,  whose  interest  in  church  matters  had  been  ex- 
pressed, as  a  general  rule,  in  dollars  instead  of  by 
personal  attendance  at  the  meetings,  was  present  on 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  l6'J 

this  occasion,  conspicuous  as  much  for  his  nearly 
finical  fineness  of  clothes  as  for  his  stalwart,  almost 
portly  figure  and  broad,  heavy,  beardless  face.  He 
was  in  high  spirits,  for  Chicago  had  been  kind  to 
him  lately,  especially  in  the  matter  of  a  heavy  deal 
in  lard.  He  was  in  conversation  with  Marian  Wilton 
when  Milford  entered  the  church-parlor,  and  some- 
how his  attitude,  his  great  watch-seal,  his  diamond 
pin,  and  the  expression  of  his  face  were  suggestive, 
to  Milford's  mind,  of  a  harmony  suited  to  a  gambling 
room  rather  than  to  a  church-parlor.  Lawson's  luck- 
money,  however,  was  no  more  apparent  in  his  personal 
apparel  than  in  the  stained-glass  windows  yonder,  or 
in  the  satin  cushions  of  the  chairs.  He  had  been  stu- 
diously liberal  in  his  aid  to  the  First  Church,  and  had 
often  laughingly  declared  himself  an  outstanding  pillar 
of  the  institution — a  financial  deacon. 

These  socials  were  quite  popular  in  Bankersville, 
as  meetings  where  young  and  old  came  together, 
primarily  for  the  good  of  certain  charities  and  sundry 
missions,  but  with  a  strong  secondary  purpose  of  a 
purely  social  nature,  which  gave  the  old  an  opportu- 
nity for  mild,  harmless  gossip,  and  the  young  quite  a 
free  field  for  a  suppressed  and  rather  puritanical  sort 
of  flirtation.  Here  Miss  Crabb  was  in  her  element ; 
killing  two  birds  with  one  stone  by  collecting  many 
items  for  her  paper  while  enjoying  an  hour  or  two  on 
good  terms  with  congenial  people.     She  took  posses- 


1 68  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

sion  of  Milford  as  soon  as  he  came  in,  and  could 
scarcely  get  through  with  the  slight  formality  of  greet- 
ing before  she  breathlessly  said  : 

"Congratulate  me!  I've  been  crowned,  I've  com- 
pleted my  happiness  !  "     She  was  radiant. 

"  Who  is  the  fortunate  man  ?  "  he  asked,  rather  per- 
functorily, his  eyes  wandering  towards  Marian  Wilton. 

"  Man  !  What  has  a  man  got  to  do  with  it  ?  Oh, 
yes,  I  suppose  the  editor  is  a  man,  for  that  matter." 

"  Ah,  it  is  literary  instead  of  matrimonial  happiness 
you  speak  of,  is  it?  I'm  glad.  Tell  me  the  good 
news." 

*'  My  essay  on  Sappho  goes  into  an  early  number 
of  the  American  Monthly ;  don't  you  know  I'm 
proud  ?     My  head  is  nearly  to  the  stars." 

**  This  is  indeed  something  to  congratulate  you 
on,"  he  said,  cordially  enough,  now  that  Miss  Wilton 
had  left  Lawson's  side.  ''  I  am  as  proud  of  your 
deserved  recognition  as  you  are.  It's  no  easy  thing 
to  get  into  those  aristocratic  columns.  But  you'll 
have  no  trouble  hereafter." 

He  slipped  away  from  her  as  soon  as  possible, 
taking  his  course  from  one  acquaintance  to  another, 
always  in  a  certain  direction,  until  he  reached  the 
girl  he  loved. 

**  I  had  begun  to  think  you  were  not  coming,"  she 
exclaimed,  as  he  came  near  her.  **  You  must  be  grow- 
ing studious," 


A  BA  NKER  OF  BA  iVKER  S  VILLE.  1 6  9 

"  Had  you  really  given  me  a  thought  before  you 
saw  me  ? "  he  asked,  and  he  looked  into  her  face 
almost  eagerly,  speaking  as  one  does  when  each  word 
is  loaded  with  intense  earnestness.  ''  I  would  give  the 
whole  world  to  know  that  you  had."  There  was  a 
fervor  in  his  voice  that  seemed  to  convey  much  more 
than  the  words,  and  he  leaned  a  little  closer  to  her. 

A  change  went  over  her  face ;  her  eyes  fell,  but  she 
lifted  them  again  instantly,  and  in  her  lightest  way  she 
said : 

"  Oh,  certainly,  I  thought  of  you  ;  it  was  when  Mr. 
Lawson  spoke  of  you."  She  laughed  a  little  and  con- 
tinued: ''One's  thoughts  can  not  be  wholly  con- 
trolled." 

'*  Nor  one's  feelings,  either,"  he  replied,  striving  to 
fall  into  her  manner.     "  I  wish  I  knew  yours  now." 

'*  If  you  did  you  might  be  very  sorry  for  me," 
she  said  ;  and  he  could  not  tell  whether  she  was  serious 
or  not,  so  inscrutable  were  her  face  and  air.  But 
in  a  moment  she  added,  with  a  pretty  smile :  "  My 
feelings  are  so  trivial  and  uninteresting,  as  a  rule, 
especially  on  occasions  like  this." 

**  You  have  had  time  to  gather  yourself  together 
since  you  spoke,"  he  said,  *'  and  now  you  have  your 
feelings  thoroughly  in  hand  ;  but  will  you  say  to  me 
that  what  was  in  your  mind  and  heart  at  the  moment 
was  trivial  and  uninteresting?  "  He  inwardly  recoiled 
from  something  in  his  own  words. 


170  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

*'  That  was  a  long  while  ago  ;  you  can't  expect  me 
to  recollect  now ;  and,  besides,  you  have  not  had  tea 
and  I  should  like  an  ice,  and  a  hundred  other  things 
tend  to  make  me  forgetful."  She  had  fully  recovered 
her  lightest  manner  now. 

He  offered  her  his  arm  to  take  her  to  the  room 
where  the  refreshments  were  spread,  conscious,  as  she 
leaned  airily  upon  him,  that  she  was  further  from  him 
and  at  the  same  time  closer  to  him  than  ever  she  had 
been  before — a  lover's  paradox,  as  hard  to  state  as  it 
was  easy  for  him  to  realize. 

A  woman  likes  a  man  who  is  wise  enough  to 
humor  her  moods,  without  appearing  to  do  it,  and  she 
trusts  him  in  proportion  to  his  cleverness  in  trimming 
his  sails  to  the  breezes  she  sees  fit  to  set  in  motion. 
Marian  Wilton  was  aware  that  Milford  regarded  hei 
with  interest,  but  she  did  not  permit  the  thought 
that  this  interest  was  love.  In  fact,  she  was  fond  oi 
asserting,  all  to  herself,  that  he  was  not  as  near  hei 
ideal  of  a  man  as  was  Lawson.  True,  Lawson  was 
lacking  in  polish  and  that  touch  of  sentiment  which 
begets  tenderness,  but  he  possessed  the  charm  which 
always  attends  success,  as  well  as  that  still  more 
doubtful  quality  of  mere  personal  force. 

*'  I  wish  I  were  as  happy  and  hopeful  this  evening 
as  Miss  Crabb  is,"  she  said,  as  they  approached  a 
table.  "  I  suppose  she  has  told  you — she  is  telling 
every  body." 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  17 1 

"I  thought  you  looked  charmingly  contented  when 
I  came  in,"  he  responded ;  then  feeling  that  the  allu- 
sion was  not  quite  amiable  in  some  way,  he  tried  to 
better  it  by  adding:  '*  Lawson  has  the  gift  of  making 
himself  good  company  ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he's  so  much  in  earnest  about  every  thing,  he 
gives  one  the  impression  that  life  is  a  wide  field,  with 
room  enough  for  us  all.  His  optimism  is  comforting 
and — and  encouraging.     He  is  a  cheerful  prophet." 

''You  mean  that  he  treats  one's  whims  with 
immense  respect  and  always  sees  a  great  outcome 
for  one's  pet  scheme." 

"  I  mean  that  along  with  the  rest,"  she  laughingly 
replied.  "  Good  nature  is  always  pleasing,  and  he 
says  it  is  very  profitable,  too." 

"  He  counts  profit  in  every  thing,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  we  all  do,  don't  we,  to  a  degree,  at  least  ? 

"  Do  you  ?  "  he  inquired  quickly.  Unconsciously, 
perhaps,  the  question  was  thrust  forward  with  all  the 
abrupt  force  of  a  sudden  deep  feeling. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  afford  to  dissect  myself.  I  am  not  an 
interesting  subject,"  she  lightly  answered  ;  "  and, 
besides,  my  profits  have  all  been  very  small,  thus  far." 

"You  are  interesting  to  me;  I  have  studied  you  a 
great  deal,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  soft  undertone.  "  I 
would  give  a  great  deal  to  understand  you  perfectly." 

She  stood  close  beside  him,  no  one  else  was  very 
near,  and  the  room  was  filled  with  the  lively  murmur 


172  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

of  the  scattered  congregation.  He  stooped  a  little, 
and,  with  his  lips  close  to  her  ear,  said  fervently : 

"  I  love  you,  love  you  more  than  all  the  world,  more 
than  my  life." 

She  started  slightly,  and  slowly  over  her  face  a  pallor, 
just  perceptible,  crept  like  a  mist,  as  she  moved  a  full 
pace  away  from  him.  There  was  a  light  in  her  eyes 
that  added  infinitely  to  their  expression,  but  he  could 
not  read  its  meaning.  The  moment  was  like  a  little 
tragedy  to  him,  so  much  did  he  dread  the  pending  result 
of  his  rash  venture.     How  small  and  how  great  is  love  ! 

Miss  Crabb,  as  was  her  custom,  interposed  herself 
promptly.     She  was  like  a  wedge. 

"  Let  me  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  you,"  she  cried  ;  "  I 
feel  like  dissipating  in  a  mild  fashion  this  evening,  I'm 
so  happy." 

Marian  Wilton  slipped  away.  To  Milford's  troubled 
imagination  her  disappearance  was  ominous — it  filled 
him  with  a  strange  fear.  It  was  as  if  Miss  Crabb  had 
banished  her. 

Later,  when  he  saw  Lawson  preparing  to  walk  home 
with  her,  the  effect  upon  him  was  like  a  vision  of  utter 
defeat  and  despair.  It  made  him  accuse  himself  of 
weakness  and  irresolution  ;  of  dallying,  while  he  ought 
to  have  striven  ;  of  sentimentalizing,  while  he  ought  to 
have  been  sternly  practical  and  wisely  selfish.  Profit, 
profit,  he  had  not  counted  the  profit.  Was  it  too  late  ? 
He  went  to  his  bed  in  a  hot  fever  of  excitement  and 
scarcely  slept  that  night. 


XII. 

A  MURDER  trial  was  an  event  of  unusual  interest 
in  Bankersville.  The  surrounding  country  ap- 
peared to  precipitate  itself  into  the  town.  The  court- 
room was  crowded  day  after  day  as  the  proceedings  of 
the  case  slowly  struggled  up  through  the  objections, 
motions,  arguments  and  other  hindrances  artfully  inter- 
polated by  the  lawyers.  The  judge,  a  mild-faced  little 
man,  kept  his  temper  by  chewing  a  wooden  tooth-pick. 

Young  Hempstead,  neatly  dressed,  a  trifle  emaciated 
and  restless,  sat  between  the  great  criminal  lawyer  and 
a  shrewd-faced  local  attorney,  watching  the  counte- 
nances of  the  jury,  as  if  trying  to  foretell  what  their 
verdict  would  be. 

Wilkins,  the  father  of  the  murdered  boy,  sat  close 
behind  Milford,  turning  now  and  then  a  resolute, 
revengeful  stare  upon  the  prisoner. 

The  jury,  ranged  in  two  rows  of  high-backed  chairs, 
showed  unmistakable  signs  of  carrying  a  great  load  of 
responsibility.  They  were  mostly  farmers,  intelligent 
and  kind-faced,  grave,  thoughtful,  very  solemn. 

The  hour  had  arrived  for  the  argument  to  begin. 
The  large  room  was  packed  with  an  eager  audience. 
Inside  the  bar,  seats  had  been  arranged  for  a  consider- 


174 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 


able  number  of  ladies,  attracted  in  the  main  by  the 
fame  of  the  distinguished  advocate  who  appeared  for 
the  defendant. 

Milford  came  in  at  the  last  moment  before  the  court 
announced  that  the  time  had  arrived  for  the  opening 
of  the  case.  He  was  compelled  to  make  his  way 
between  the  closely  crowded  chairs  of  the  ladies. 
Marian  Wilton  looked  up  as  he  passed  and  smiled 
with  a  little  nod  of  recognition.  He  bowed  gravely, 
and  went  on  to  his  seat  in  front  of  Wilkins. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  for  the  circuit  arose  and 
addressed  the  court  and  the  jury.  He  was  a  clear- 
minded  man,  logical,  cold,  calm,  and  his  speech  was  a 
piece  of  merciless  analysis,  setting  before  the  jury  all 
the  details  of  the  crime  with  photographic  realism. 
He  seemed  to  leave  no  room  for  a  doubt  of  the  pris- 
oner's guilt  in  the  highest  degree.  There  was  no 
rhetoric  in  his  address ;  it  was  simply  a  mass  of  facts, 
appallingly  saturated  with  murder.  He  made  no 
appeal  for  vengeance,  indulged  in  no  denunciation  of 
the  prisoner,  but  contented  himself  with  a  dark,  mi- 
nutely graphic  presentation  of  the  idea  involved  in  the 
evidence.  He  did  not  use  an  hour  in  speaking,  but 
when  he  sat  down  the  hush  in  the  room  seemed  to  tell 
how  he  had  affected  his  audience  by  the  force  of  his 
rugged  realism.  It  was  a  full  minute  before  any  per- 
son  stirred  ;  then  a  slight  rustle  began  somewhere,  and 
ran  all  over  the  dense  crowd. 


A  B  A  NICER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  175 

The  great  advocate  now  rose,  slowly  assuming  the 
majestic  attitude  for  which  he  was  noted,  looked  over 
the  audience  with  a  wonderful  expression  of  pain  and 
sorrow  on  his  face,  then  with  a  glance  at  the  Court,  he 
turned  and  surveyed  the  jury  with  a  calm,  slow,  be- 
seeching look.  The  twelve  faces  changed  strangely. 
The  prosecutor's  speech  was  already  quite  forgotten. 
The  superb  presence  and  the  consummate  acting  of 
the  great  orator  were  as  eloquent  and  fascinating  as 
grand  beauty  and  impressive  silence  ever  can  be. 

Every  ear  was  strained  to  catch  the  first  word. 
Indiana  and,  indeed,  the  whole  country  knows  well  the 
magic  of  that  voice  which  for  resonant  sweetness,  com- 
pass and  flexibility  never  was  surpassed.  It  is  not 
within  the  power  of  mere  words  to  give  the  effect  of 
its  music.  The  speech  was  perhaps  the  most  touch- 
ing and  tender,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  irre- 
sistible, eloquent  and  overpowering  ever  uttered  by 
that  great  master  of  the  western  bar.  It  closed  with 
a  peroration  whose  key-note  was  a  plea  for  the  heart- 
broken mother  yearning  for  her  boy,  and  for  the  boy 
himself,  who  had  done  the  deed  in  the  frenzy  of  des- 
peration induced  by  disappointed  love.  The  jury  was 
in  tears,  the  women  were  sobbing  aloud,  and  the  little 
judge  was  chewing  his  toothpick  as  if  his  life  de- 
pended on  the  vigor  of  the  performance.  When  the 
orator  sat  down,  the  audience  outside  the  bar  broke 
forth   with    a  roar  of  applause.      Judge    and    sheriff 


176  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

hastened  to  restore  order  by  threatening  to  clear  th- 
room. 

Court  now  adjourned  for  the  noon  intermission 
and  Milford's  argument  was  to  begin  at  two  o'clock. 
"  Remember  what  we  expect  of  you,"  murmured  the 
voice  of  Marian  Wilton,  as  the  young  man  passed 
down  the  broad  crowded  stairs  of  the  court-house. 
She  was  leaning  on  her  father's  arm,  and  her  face  was 
flushed  and  excited.  '*  This  is  the  turning  point  of 
your  life,"  she  added  ;    "  you  must  not  fail." 

Dr.  Wilton  laughed  at  his  daughter's  earnestness. 
**  It  is,  indeed,  a  great  occasion  for  you,"  he  said  in  an 
explanatory  and  apologetic  tone,  "  but  I  hope  you 
don't  need  Marian's  enthusiastic  urging  to  make  you 
feel  the  opportunity." 

On  every  side  the  crowding,  jostling  people  were 
praising  the  great  advocate's  speech  in  the  most  ex- 
travagant terms. 

*'What  a  grand  gift  that  man's  oratory  is,"  Miss 
Wilton  exclaimed  ;  '*  listen  how  every  body  is  talking 
about  it !  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man  I  should  never  rest 
until  I  had  won  this  sort  of  glory — it  is  god-like  ! " 

"Daughter,  daughter,  you  are  too  enthusiastic  ;  you 
make  your  statements  rather  florid,"  laughingly  chided 
the  doctor.     ''  Your  imagination  is  warmed  up." 

"  I  didn't  cry  while  he  was  speaking,"  she  quickly 
responded  ;  "  not  that  I  condemn  your  being  touched 
to  tears,  father,  but  I  was  too  deeply  interested,  too 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE,  177 

thoroughly  entertained,  too  conscious  of  his  power  to 
be  affected  in  that  way." 

During  all  this  time  Milford  had  not  spoken.  He 
was  too  well  aware  of  the  tremendous  influence  that 
had  gone  forth  from  the  speech  he  had  just  heard  not 
to  feel  the  weight  of  his  pending  duty,  and  yet  he 
would  have  preferred  one  tender  glance  from  Marian 
Wilton  to  all  the  glory  he  could  gain  from  a  victory 
over  the  greatest  orator  of  the  day,  here  in  his  own 
town,  where  victory  would  be  so  sweet  and  so  valuable. 
But  he  could  discover  nothing  in  her  voice,  her  words, 
her  manner,  beyond  the  cold  wish  that  he  might  suc- 
ceed— a  mere  professional  sympathy,  so  to  speak. 

"  You  will  come  back  and  hear  me,  won't  you  ?  "  he 
demanded,  at  last,  as  they  were  about  to  part  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.    "  I  shall  try  to  do  my  best.'* 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  coming — -the  ladies  are  all  coming. 
There  is  a  great  interest  manifested — more  than  you 
dream  of,"  she  responded.  **  You  needn't  fear  that 
you  will  be  without  an  expectant  audience.  Under 
the  surface  the  larger  number  of  the  people  is  with  you. 
They  think  you  have  right  and  justice  on  your  side." 

It  seemed  strange  to  him  that  she  should  say  this 
after  hearing  that  strong  appeal  to  her  sympathy  and 
her  sense  of  mercy.  He  wondered  if  it  could  be  true 
that  she  felt  no  pity  for  that  poor  pale  youth  whose 
life  was  hanging  by  so  doubtful  a  thread.  His  own 
pity  just  then  was  oppressive. 


178  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

During  the  adjournment  of  court  for  the  noon  hour 
Milford  busied  himself  with  his  final  preparations, 
reforming  certain  parts  of  his  argument  and  turning 
over  in  his  mind  the  plan  of  its  arrangement  as  a  whole. 
He  had  overheard  a  good  many  remarks  as  he  was 
pressing  through  the  crowd  to  get  to  his  office. 

"  Him  answer  that  speech  !  "  said  some  rural  cynic ; 
"  w'y  it'll  be  like  a  rabbit  a-kickin'  agin*  a  mule !  I'm 
goin*  to  hear  him,  though." 

"  So*m  I,  an*  possibly  a  feller  might  be  deceived  in 
him  ;  he's  got  a  eye  like  a  sparrer  hawk's,  an*  a  cool  way 
about  him  ;  there  may  be  a  blame  sight  more  in  him 
than  ye  think  fur,**  remarked  another. 

*'  Hang  that  boy  !  *'  ejaculated  a  third,  "  I'd  jest  as 
soon  hang  a  gal." 

"No  danger,'*  put  in  another,  ''he's  just  as  good  as 
cle*red  now.  'T'aint  no  use  a-buckin'  agin  thunder  ; 
that  speech  *11  save  him." 

Oratory  is  greatly  prized  in  the  West,  where  its  music 
and  passion  have  not  been  squeezed  out  by  the  pres- 
sure of  so-called  culture.  Your  mere  lecturer  may 
please  the  intellect  and  fulfill  the  demands  of  a  pol- 
ished and  refined  taste ;  but  it  requires  the  freedom  of 
sincerity,  the  abandon  of  passion  and  the  enthusiasm 
of  human  feeling  to  reach  the  souls  of  a  Western  jury. 

Milford  went  to  his  task  handicapped.  The  open- 
ing of  his  speech  was,  in  a  manner,  dry  and  lifeless, 
albeit  a  gradual  development  of  his  plan  of  treating 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  1 79 

the  case  served  to  hold  the  attention  of  his  hearers. 
His  style  was  fluent  rather  than  eloquent,  choice  dic- 
tion serving  instead  of  dramatic  force  of  elocution,  and 
a  close  observer  might  have  noted  a  trace  of  restraint, 
gradually  disappearing  as  the  current  of  his  discourse 
increased  in  volume  and  velocity.  At  a  certain  point 
the  audience  began  to  feel  his  power  in  a  peculiar  way  ; 
it  was  as  if  his  voice  had  an  electrical  quality  and 
something  more  subtle  in  it  that  thrilled  through  the 
nerves.  No  one  had  particularly  noticed  that  at  about 
this  time  his  eyes  were  turned  for  a  single  moment 
upon  Marian  Wilton's  face,  nor  could  it  have  been 
observed  that  some  deep,  intense,  wistful,  wrapt 
expression  in  her  eyes  had  fired  his  brain  and  stirred 
his  soul  into  a  storm.  His  face  began  to  beam  with 
the  contagious  earnestness  and  heat  of  sudden  inspi- 
ration and  his  voice  gathered  volume  and  sweetness, 
flooding  the  room  with  its  swells  and  cadences  heavy 
with  the  dangerous  influence  of  passion.  It  was  not 
so  much  what  he  said  as  his  manner,  his  voice,  his 
illuminated  face,  his  courageous  assaults  upon  the 
great  advocate's  sentimental  sophistries.  If  he  lost 
greatly  at  the  point  of  mere  personal  magnetism,  he 
gained  all  the  more  from  the  subtle  incisiveness  and 
peculiar  charm  of  his  oratory,  coupled  with  his  earn- 
estness, his  evident  sincerity,  and,  withal,  that  nameless 
influence  generated  by  actual  instead  of  simulated 
passion,  with  which  he  now  swept  the  minds   of  the 


l8o  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

jurors  clean  of  all  that  had  gone  before,  so  that  they 
remembered  nothing  but  what  he  was  doing  and 
saying.  At  the  close  he  pictured  the  desolation  in 
the  home  of  the  murdered  youth,  the  father's  anguish, 
the  mother's  despair,  the  darkened  life  of  the  young 
girl  who  was  to  have  been  his  wife,  and  then  he  spoke 
of  Justice,  whose  awful  form  guards  the  lives  and  liber- 
ties of  the  citizen.     His  final  words  were: 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  are  fathers,  you  have 
sons,  you  have  daughters.  You  are  here  to  say  what 
shall  be  done  with  him  who  sets  this  example  of  blood- 
thirsty lawlessness.  May  your  daughter  choose  her 
lover?  May  she  signify  her  choice?  Oh,  no;  the 
rejected  suitor  holds  the  law  in  his  hands.  He  will 
murder  your  neighbor's  son  if  that  son  be  her  chosen 
one.  He  has  murdered  your  neighbor's  son.  There 
sits  the  old  man  with  the  fire  of  utter  anguish  burning 
in  his  heart.  Where  is  his  boy?  He  lies  in  a  bloody 
grave  in  the  little  church-yard  yonder." 

At  this  point  he  paused  for  a  single  moment  to  pick 
up  from  the  table  near  by  the  hat  of  the  dead  youth, 
which,  with  its  suggestive  bullet-holes  and  dark,  hor- 
rible stains,  had  been  introduced  in  testimony.  It  was 
like  stopping  the  breath  of  the  audience — the  faces  of 
the  jury  were  ghastly.  The  speaker  stood  quite  still, 
slowly  turning  in  his  hand  the  silent  witness  of  the 
assassin's  guilt ;  but  he  made  no  oral  reference  to  it. 
Suddenly,  with  his  frame  dilating  and  his  face  emitting 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  l8l 

a  flash  like  a  white  flame,  his  voice  burst  forth  in  a 
passionate  torrent. 

"Where  is  Justice?  How  shall  such  a  crime  ^o 
unpunished  ?  Ah,  gentlemen,  Justice  has  her  throne 
in  your  hearts,  and  out  from  your  lips  must  come  her 
decree.  Stand  for  the  law  against  the  law-breaker, 
stand  for  the  poor  murdered  boy."  Here  he  rested 
for  a  mere  breath,  still  slowly  turning  the  hat.  "And 
against  the  murderer  turn  the  effect  of  his  heartless 
cruelty.  *  Have  mercy,  mercy,  mercy,'  wails  the  dis- 
tinguished advocate  for  the  defense.  It  is  the  false 
mercy  he  asks  that  has  made  it  possible  for  assassins 
to  hope  for  light  punishment  or  none  at  all.  Let  this 
prisoner  escape  the  extreme  penalty  and  how  short 
maybe  the  time  until  I  shall  stand  before  another  jury 
of  this  county  holding  in  my  hand  the  horrible  evi- 
dence of  another  assassination  !  Heaven  forbid — it 
chills  me,  it  overcomes  me  to  think  of  it!  "  His  voice 
thickened  and  with  an  almost  husky  intonation  he 
added  :  "  Which  one  of  you  will  bury  the  next  victim  ? 
From  what  mother  shall  the  next  wail  arise  over  the 
lifeless  body  of  her  murdered  son  ?  What  home 
shall  be  darkened  next?"  He  let  fall  the  hat  upon 
the  table.  "  The  eyes  of  God  are  upon  you,"  he 
cried,  "the  scales  of  Justice  are  in  your  hands, 
the  awful  power  of  your  responsibility  is  on  your  con- 
sciences, bound  by  an  oath  which  you  can  not  break, 
and  the  facts  of  this  horrible  crime  are  fresh  in  your 


1 82  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

minds.  There  is  but  one  verdict  you  can  render. 
The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard."  He  stood  quite 
still  for  a  moment  gazing  on  the  bullet-pierced,  blood- 
stained hat.  Every  juror's  eyes  were  fixed  steadily  in 
the  same  direction. 

"  Gentlemen,  the  case  is  with  you,"  he  said,  and  sat 
down. 

The  audience,  under  the  spell  of  this  strange  spec- 
tacular argument,  kept  profoundly  silent  while  the 
Court  read  his  charge  to  the  jury.  Even  during  this 
solemn  proceeding  the  eyes  of  the  twelve  men  wan- 
dered from  the  face  of  the  judge  to  that  voiceless  but 
awfully  eloquent  object  on  the  table.  The  bullet-- 
holes  in  it  were  the  deep,  hollow  eyes  of  lawful  ven- 
geance. 

Milford  sat  with  flushed  cheeks  and  throbbing  veins 
until  the  charge  was  finished  and  the  jury  had  retired 
to  their  room  ;  then  he  rose  and  walked  out  of  the 
house.  As  he  went  along  toward  the  door  he  glanced 
at  Marian  Wilton.  He  tried  not  to  do  this,  but  ,how 
could  he  resist  the  feeling  of  triumph  that  burned  in 
his  blood?  He  longed  to  see  how  she  had  received 
his  effort.  Her  face  was  pale  when  he  turned  his  head 
suddenly  and  looked  at  her,  but  when  her  eyes  met 
his  she  blushed  crimson.  Nobody  noticed  her,  how- 
ever, for  the  crowd  was  gazing,  fascinated,  on  the  hero 
of  the  moment — the  young  lawyer  who  had  success- 
fully answered  the  great  advocate's  speech. 


A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  1 83 

Milford  was  glad  to  get  away  from  this  scene  into 
the  privacy  of  his  office.  He  tried  to  avoid  the  praises 
and  congratulations  of  friends,  as  well  as  the  rude  but 
well-meant  remarks  of  acquaintances  from  the  country. 
Many  persons  followed  him,  even  into  his  office,  and 
actually  harassed  him  with  voluble  expressions  of 
delight  at  his  great  speech. 

**  Oh,  of  course,  they  won't  hang  him,"  Lawson  said, 
when  the  jury  had  been  in  consultation  some  hours 
without  a  verdict.  "  I  knew  you  couldn't  convict  him 
against  such  a  lawyer  as  you  had  to  contend  with  ;  but 
you  made  your  mark,  all  the  same ;  you  made  a  good 
speech,  a  remarkably  good  speech." 

"  I  hope  most  fervently  that  they  will  not  put  on 
the  extreme  penalty,"  Milford  responded  ;  "  I  fear  that 
would  be  too  hard,  considering  his  youth  and  all  the 
surrounding  circumstances." 

"  He'd  better  be  hanged  than  go  to  the  peniten- 
tiary," Lawson  exclaimed,  almost  gruffly.  "  What's 
life  after  the  stripes  are  on  ?  " 

"  He's  young,  he  might  reform  and  go  off  to  where 
he  is  not  known,  and — " 

"  Hell ! "  ejaculated  Lawson,  springing  to  his  feet 
and  beginning  to  walk  the  floor.  "  They  don't 
reform.  Their  infamy  follows  them  like  a  shadow — a 
dark,  demoniac  ghost !     It  is  hell,  hell !  " 

Milford  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  seeing  no  occa- 
sion for  his  excited  manner  and  voice,  and  unable  to 


1 84  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

understand  the  bitterness  of  his  words;  his  phrases 
had  a  personal  ring. 

Just  then  the  great  bell  sounded  up  in  the  steeple 
of  the  court-house.  It  was  the  announcement  that  the 
jury  had  agreed,  and  that  the  court  would  convene  at 
once  to  receive  the  verdict. 

Milford  sprang  to  his  feet. 

*'They  have  acquitted  him,  I  bet,"  said  Lawson. 

**  I  hope  so,"  said  Milford ;  **  or,  rather,  I  hope  it  is  a 
lighter  verdict  than  death." 

"  It  will  give  you  a  back-set,"  said  Lawson. 

Although  it  was  now  after  nightfall,  the  lingering 
crowd  filled  the  court-room  at  once,  and  waited  breath- 
lessly until  the  prisoner  could  be  fetched  from  the  jail. 
The  judge  looked  uneasily  solemn.  The  sheriff  called 
the  roll  of  the  jury,  each  member  answering  when  his 
name  was  spoken. 

** Gentlemen,  have  you  agreed  upon  a  verdict?" 
inquired  the  judge. 

*'Yes,  sir,  we  have,"  promptly  responded  the  fore- 
man, rising  and  handing  a  bit  of  paper  to  the  sheriff, 
who  passed  it  to  the  judge. 

The  prisoner,  whose  pale,  wistful,  almost  waxen  face, 
showed  the  harrowing  nature  of  the  ordeal  through 
which  he  had  been  passing,  trembled  and  fixed  a 
faltering  gaze  upon  the  slip,  as  the  judge  unfolded  it. 
The  verdict  was  "guilty"  and  ''death."  It  was 
evidently  a  startling  surprise  to  the  judge,  as  well  as  to 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  1 85 

the  prisoner  and  his  counsel,  for  they  all  seemed  equally 
affected.  If  any  difference  could  have  been  noted, 
perhaps  the  face  of  the  great  criminal  lawyer  might 
have  been  declared  the  most  pallid  of  all,  as  he  involun- 
tarily cast  a  glance  at  his  youthful  and  unfortunate 
client. 

With  a  strangely  mechanical  motion  the  crowd,  after 
a  space  of  gaping  silence,  moved  out  into  the  street, 
without  observing  that  young  Hempstead's  mother 
had  tottered  forward  and  flung  herself  upon  her 
doomed  boy  with  a  succession  of  low,  broken  wails. 

Milford  hurried  from  the  room,  followed  by  Wilkins, 
the  father  of  the  murdered  youth. 

"  I'm  satisfied  now,"  the  old  man  muttered,  seizing 
the  lawyer's  arm  with  the  clutch  of  a  giant ;  *'  you 
done  'im  up  in  particular  good  style,  Mr.  Milford  ;  he's 
got  to  hang  now.  I'm  mighty  much  ableeged  to  ye 
till  ye*r  better  paid.  I'll  come  in  to-morrer  mornin' 
and  fetch  yer  money.  You've  yearnt  it  if  any  man 
ever  did.     You've  worked  hard  for  your  fee." 

Milford  finally  shook  him  off,  as  one  might  shake  off 
some  suffocating  spell  or  some  hideous  incubus. 

And  so  the  great  trial  was  over,  but  for  days  and 
nights  together  the  phrases:  "You  done  *im  up,"  and 
"You've  worked  hard  for  your  fee,"  rang  in  Milford's 
ears  with  a  persistency  almost  unbearably  exas- 
perating. 


XIII. 

AFTER  the  little  judge  had  pronounced  sentence 
of  death  upon  Billy  Hempstead,  Bankersville 
settled  down  again  to  the  "  business  of  flourishing,"  as 
Downs  expressed  it.  The  day  for  the  execution  was 
set  forward  more  than  three  months,  and,  although  the 
dark  event  now  and  then  projected  a  shadow,  the 
gayety  of  the  season  was  something  without  precedent 
in  Bankersville  society. 

The  lawyers  for  the  defense  had  promptly  taken  the 
case  to  the  Supreme  Court,  on  appeal,  but  the  judgment 
below  had  been  afBrmed  quite  as  promptly,  so  that 
now,  nothing,  save  an  act  of  executive  discretion  on 
the  part  of  the  Governor  of  the  State,  could  save  the 
prisoner  from  the  ignominious  death  to  which  he  had 
been  condemned. 

About  this  time,  Mrs.  Goodword,  known  far  and 
wide  as  the  Woman  Evangelist,  came  to  Bankersville  to 
begin  a  religious  revival.  She  was  a  person  of  great 
energy  and  tact,  full  of  enthusiasm,  a  voluble  and  sen- 
timental talker,  and  shrewdly  cognizant  of  the  weakest 
points  of  human  nature.  She  came,  too,  with  the  pres- 
tige of  great  works  performed  at  Wahoo,  and  Vandalia, 
and  Kalamazoo,  and    Lignumvitse  and  Kokomo,  and 


A  BA NKER  OF  BA NA'ERS  VILLE.  3  8  7 

aided  by  the  favorable,  though  ofttimes  humorous, 
comments  of  the  newspapers. 

"  Seems  like  every  thing  excitin'  and  uncommon  was 
comin'  all  at  once,"  said  Downs  one  day  at  dinner; 
*'  this  here's  the  best  stuffed  chicken  I  ever  tasted ;  real- 
estate  is  jest  a-boomin'  ;  there's  a  dance  every  night ; 
we're  goin*  to  have  a  hangin'  next  month,  and  that 
woman  has  got  her  revival  red  hot  an*  still  a  heatin*, 
to  say  nothin'  of  cryin*  sales,  an*  gittin*  married  *fore 
long !  "  He  glanced  slyly  at  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  as  he 
finished  this  speech. 

"  As  to  the  marryin'  part,  Misther  Downs,  ye  moight 

be  desaved  intoirely.     I've  known  min "  here  she 

paused  to  correct  her  pronunciation  and  accent — "  I 
have  seen  men  take  on  in  a  terrible  way  when  a  woman 
chanced  to  change  her  moind — her  mind,  in  a  little 
matter  like  choosing  a  husband,  so  I  have." 

"They  do  say,"  exclaimed  Downs,  "that,  next  to 
the  toothache,  a  broken  heart  is  the  saddest  ailment  a 
body  can  have ;  clove  oil  an'  chloroform  mixed  and 
well  shook  is  the  only  remedy." 

"  I'm  impressed  with  the  opinion  that  you*d  better 
be  a  kaypin*  a  leetle  bit  of  that  same  midicine  in  yer 
pocket  all  the  toime,  for  ye  moight  nayd  it  any 
minute  as  a  quick  relief  for  a  suddint  attack,"  she 
replied,  with  a  merry  laugh. 

It  was  now  late  in  summer, — the  season  usually 
devoted  by  Western  people  to  picnics,  excursions  to 


1 88  A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

the  Northern  lakes,  and  sometimes  to  a  sojourn  at 
some  watering-place  on  the  Atlantic  coast ;  but  Mrs. 
Goodword's  revival  had  been  affording  excitement 
and  interest  enough  at  home  to  keep  the  residents  of 
Bankersville  thoroughly  forgetful  of  Petoskey  and 
Green  Bay,  West  Baden  Springs  and  Ocean  Grove. 
The  dancing  parties  were  no  more,  picnics  had  lost 
their  charm ;  even  the  delightful  church  social  had 
been  neglected  for  the  more  stimulating  meetings  of 
the  fair  evangelist.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Goodword  had  no 
rivals  left  in  the  field  excepting  the  man  with  the 
roller-skating  rink  and  the  managers  of  the  county 
fair,  unless  indeed  the  hangman,  with  the  awful  specter 
of  a  gallows  in  the  background,  should  be  considered. 
True,  the  bicycle  club  glided  out  of  town  on  Tuesday 
and  Friday  afternoons,  going  away  on  silent  wheels  for 
quiet  whirls  in  the  country  lanes  between  the  orchards 
and  the  stubblefields  ;  but  there  was  less  racing  talk, 
and  the  captain  of  the  club  had  suddenly  quit  smok- 
ing and  saying  "  by  Jinks  "  in  company. 

Lawson  was  conspicuous  just  now  as  the  only  man 
in  Bankersville  who  drove  a  pair  of  very  fast  horses : 
matched  bays  they  were — valued  at  four  thousand  dol- 
lars :  high  steppers  with  small  heads,  large  eyes,  and 
flexible  nostrils,  and  yet  as  gentle  as  kittens.  He  took 
no  notice  of  Mrs.  Goodword's  meetings,  being  very 
busy  with  a  secret  financial  scheme,  of  which  not  even 
McGinnis  was  allowed  to  know  any  thing.     Of  late,  the 


4   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  189 

j/'oung  men  of  Bankersville's  best  society  had  been 
whispering  among  themselves  that  Lawson  was  at 
times  drinking  hard  and  indulging  in  other  dangerous 
dissipations.  As  is  generally  the  case,  this  rumor  did 
not  become  public,  for  all  these  young  men  were  Law- 
son's  friends,  and  he  was  a  jolly  fellow:  liberal,  free- 
hearted, the  very  life  of  their  mild  social  orgies. 

Milford  was  called  away  into  the  South  soon  after 
the  trial,  on  account  of  some  pine  lands  belonging  to 
his  father's  estate.  There  had  been  a  sudden  and  very 
great  rise  in  the  price  of  these  lands  on  account  of  a 
railroad  which  had  just  been  built  across  them.  In 
fact,  the  estate,  hitherto  almost  worthless,  was  now, 
thanks  to  its  pine  forests,  quite  valuable. 

It  was  a  relief  to  him  to  get  away  from  Bankersville 
at  this  particular  time,  for,  struggle  against  it  as  he 
would,  a  sense  of  depression  lingered  in  his  mind,  and 
vaguely  enough  he  was  continually  accusing  himself  of 
using  unfair  means  to  compass  young  Hempstead's 
conviction.  The  strangest  part  of  all  this  was  that  he 
involuntarily  connected  Marian  Wilton  with  this 
thought,  although  he  resented  it  as  often  as  it  arose. 
His  success  in  the  trial  had  not  made  him  famous,  as 
some  enthusiastic  persons  had  predicted ;  the  victory 
being  tacitly  if  not  openly  attributed  to  a  public  prej- 
udice against  the  prisoner,  rather  than  to  any  clever- 
ness exhibited  by  counsel  for  the  prosecution. 

He  did  not  call  on  Miss  Wilton  before  starting  on 


ipo  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

his  southward  journey.  It  suited  his  mood  to  hold  in 
his  heart  unchanged  that  look  her  eyes  had  given  him 
while  he  was  addressing  the  jury,  the  look  which  it 
now  seemed  to  him  had  sealed  the  young  prisoner's 
death-warrant.  It  pleased  him  to  imagine  that,  for  a 
short  space  of  time  at  least,  he  had  touched  the  lowest 
well-springs  of  her  feeling.  He  wondered  if  she  had 
noticed  how  suddenly  and  fully  he  had  responded  to 
her  mute  appeal  with  that  terrible  assault  upon  the 
accused,  and  how  here  and  there  in  the  substance  of 
his  speech  appeared  the  suggestions  she  had  given  him 
from  time  to  time.  In  some  obscure  way  he  was  con- 
scious of  having  put  aside  for  her  certain  qualms  and 
doubts,  and  he  hoped  that  she  had  not  noticed  his 
weakness.  He  even  tried  to  get  a  kind  of  satisfaction 
out  of  the  thought  that,  of  all  the  world,  no  one  but 
her  could  have  influenced  him  in  that  way.  At  the 
root  of  all  this,  perhaps,  was  the  half-smothered  belief 
that  she  loved  Lawson,  and  yet  this  hardly  seemed 
possible.     How  could  she  love  such  a  man  ? 

It  was  during  Milford's  stay  in  the  South  that  his 
novel,  a  work  into  which  he  had  put  a  great  deal  of 
himself,  came  out  from  the  press  of  a  strong  publishing- 
house  in  New  York  and  was  received  by  the  critics 
with  genuine  broadsides  of  praise.  It  was  an  anony- 
mous book,  its  author's  name  being  securely  withheld 
from  the  public,  the  publishers  shrewdly  availing  them- 
selves of  the  popular  curiosity.     The  newspapers  and 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  191 

literary  journals  joined  in  making  it  the  novel  of  the 
season,  and  a  number  of  the  foremost  novelists  of  the 
world  were  compelled  to  deny  having  written  it.  In 
fact,  there  seemed  no  end  to  the  ways  in  which  it  was 
kept  afloat  on  popular  attention.  All  this  failed  to 
impress  Milfordashe  had  once  thought  sudden  literary 
success  would  be  sure  to  do,  and  when  he  traced  the 
failure  to  its  source  he  found  Marian  Wilton.  She 
would  not  sympathize  with  his  triumph,  no  matter  how 
great,  brought  about  by  the  quiet  and  impersonal 
methods  of  mere  art ;  her  ideal  was  the  great  individ- 
ual, the  overbearing  personality  driving  men  before  it 
and  compassing  its  purposes  by  the  sensational  drama- 
tic lift  of  oratory  and  by  the  force  of  a  master's  will. 
She  would  prefer  the  plaudits  of  the  crowd  at  the  ros- 
trum to  all  the  well-balanced  praises  of  the  critics.  He 
recalled  with  vivid  distinctness  her  estimate  of  Arthur 
Selby ;  how  she  had  compared  his  insignificance  of 
personal  force  with  the  magnetic  bearing  of  certain 
famous  orators  and  statesmen,  maintaining  in  her  calm 
yet  really  vehement  way,  that  art  is  debilitating,  as 
practiced  now,  having  nothing  in  it  that  appeals  to  the 
heroic  part  of  man's  or  woman's  nature — mere  play, 
indeed. 

*'  There  are  no  more  Homers,  Dantes,  Miltons," 
she  had  said;  "in  their  places  we  have  Arthur  Selbys 
and  the  analysts — pigmies  with  needles  and  micro- 
scopes, delighting  themselves  with  what  they  call  dis- 


192  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

seating  human  motives — a  small  business,  even  for 
small  men." 

This  criticism  now  seemed  to  him  peculiarly  effec- 
tive, as  it  shone  forward  over  his  own  novel,  which 
was  nothing  if  not  analytical  in  its  scope  and  purpose. 
As  most  writers  do  at  times,  he  felt  the  slightness 
and  lightness  of  his  work,  and  wondered  if  indeed 
Marian  Wilton  had  foreseen  what  it  would  be.  He 
had  all  the  provincial's  self-consciousness  and  was 
inclined  to  look  upon  his  literary  ambition  as  some- 
thing vastly  important ;  and  yet,  now  that  success 
had  crowned  his  first  book,  he  was  faltering  and  hesi- 
tating to  accept  as  worthy  of  his  manhood  the  meed 
of  the  fiction-maker.  He  was  almost  aware,  all  the 
time,  that  it  was  scarcely  his  own  nature  out  of  which 
these  doubts  and  this  lack  of  faith  arose.  Her  pref- 
erences, even  her  prejudices,  were  very  dear  to  him 
and  very  potent  in  their  effect  upon  his  judgment 
and  even  his  conscience. 

As  he  traveled  southward  and  the  miles  lengthened 
between  them,  he  began  to  feel  that  his  distance  from 
her  was  immeasurable  in  both  the  physical  and  spir- 
itual sense,  and  that  by  the  time  he  could  return  to 
her  she  would  be  lost  to  him  forever.  He  even  went 
so  far  as  to  envy  Lawson  the  luck  that  had  cast  an 
unearned  fortune  upon  him,  and  then  he  turned  upon 
himself  and  wondered  how  he  had  grown  to  be  so 
commonplace  and  so  groveling  in  his  thoughts.     When 


A   BANKER   OF  BAiYKERSVILLE.  1 93 

love  gets  in,  all  else  goes  out,  and  when  love  is  baffled, 
life  becomes  a  dreary,  monotonous  labyrinth  of  doubt 
and  discouragement,  which  not  even  the  light  of 
worldly  success  and  personal  achievement  can  make 
bearable.  Looking  back  over  his  life,  it  appeared  to 
him  that  fate  had  been  against  him,  turning  his  victories 
into  defeat  and  forestalling  every  purpose  before  it 
ripened.  During  his  stay  in  the  South,  lengthened  as 
it  was  by  difficulty  in  negotiating  the  sale  of  the  lands, 
he  had  no  word  from  any  one  in  Bankersville.  Fool- 
ishly enough,  perhaps,  he  wrote  Marian  Wilton  a  long 
letter  ;  this  was  towards  the  end  of  his  stay  and  at  a 
time  when  he  had  grown  almost  unbearably  impatient 
to  return  to  the  scenes  her  presence  had  made  holy  to 
him.  The  letter  was  full  of  love,  and  yet  it  did  not 
say  love,  carrying  in  its  words  and  phrases  and  between 
them  that  passionate  suppression  of  passion  which 
often  proves  more  fascinating  to  a  woman  than  the 
most  direct  and  enthusiastic  protestations  of  devotion 
could  possibly  be. 

Miiford's  few  surviving  relatives  and  old  acquaint- 
ances down  South  received  him  cordially  enough,  and 
yet  he  fancied  that  they  felt  a  sort  of  stain  attaching 
to  him,  on  account  of  his  abandonment  of  the  lost 
cause,  which  rendered  contact  with  him  a  thing  to  be 
furtively  deplored.  They  seemed  to  think  that  he  had 
prospered  wonderfully,  was  rich,  in  fact,  and  that  his 
prosperity  was  in  some  direct  connection  with  his  un- 


194  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

faithfulness  to  his  so-called  country  and  to  the  tradi- 
tions  of  his  ancestors. 

Milford  exaggerated  the  strength  of  these  prejudices, 
no  doubt ;  still  they  existed  and  could  not  have  been 
ignored  under  even  the  most  favorable  circumstances. 
In  his  peculiar  situation,  remembering  that  in  the  North 
his  "  rebel  record,"  as  it  was  called,  had  been  a  constant 
source  of  annoyance  to  him,  he  was  doubly  sensitive  to 
this  coolness  toward  him  amongst  his  Southern  ac- 
quaintances and  former  associates,  on  the  ground  that 
he  had  sympathized  with  the  enemies  of  the  Con- 
federacy. 

It  was  not  until  after  he  had  started  back  to  Bankers- 
ville  that  the  thought  suddenly  came  into  his  mind : 
"  I  shall  arrive  but  a  few  days  before  the  time  set  for 
the  execution  of  young  Hempstead  !  " 

At  first  he  seriously  considered  dallying  at  some 
point  on  the  way  until  after  the  day,  but  the  desire  to 
get  near  Marian  Wilton  overcame  every  other  and  he 
hurried  on.  To  say  the  full  truth,  he  was  very  impa- 
tient to  arrive :  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  the  rushing, 
clanging  cars,  as  they  whirled  him  northward,  seemed 
to  him  as  slow  as  snails  on  the  road,  and  as  willfully  dil- 
atory as  possible  at  all  the  stations.  Now  and  again 
he  turned  upon  himself  and  inquired  why  he  should  be 
so  eager  to  reach  a  journey's  end  where  nothing  but 
disappointment  awaited  him  ;  but  he  did  not  answer, 
save  by  growing  still  more  impatient  of  momentary 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  1 95 

delays.  Her  face  haunted  him  as  nothing  else  in  the 
world  can  haunt  a  man  ;  but,  try  as  he  would,  he  could 
not  imagine  it  wearing  any  other  look  than  the  one 
that  had  filled  him  with  a  sudden  inspiration  on  the 
day  of  the  trial,  when  his  speech  was  at  the  point  of 
ending  in  mediocrity,  or  worse.  It  thrilled  him,  even 
at  this  distance,  to  remember  how  he  had  risen  to  the 
height  of  dramatic  energy  at  her  silent  bidding.  Then 
always  the  thought  would  come  that  he  had  overrid- 
den his  conscience  and  sacrificed  something  that  he 
had  prized  very  much,  for  her  and  yet  for  naught.  Was 
it  for  naught  ?  Did  she  really  care  nothing  for  him  ? 
What  a  fool  he  had  been  not  to  press  his  claim — not  to 
urge  his  suit — not  to  besiege  her  with  all  the  force  of 
his  true  and  deep  passion  !  He  would  do  it  yet :  she 
should  not  escape  the  great  happiness  that  such  love 
as  his  could  bring  her.  Love  in  a  man  rarely  takes  the 
form  of  utter  unselfishness,  but  now  he  thought  only 
of  her,  not  of  himself  at  all. 

He  reached  Bankersville  after  nightfall.  It  was  the 
full  moon  in  August,  and  the  beautiful  little  city  lay 
dreaming  in  the  mellow  light,  its  church-spires  show- 
ing keen  and  clear  against  a  cloudless  sky.  The  valley 
of  the  Wabash,  with  its  bottom  lands  all  agleam,  and 
its  river,  wide  and  placid,  winding  away  between  scat- 
tered fringes  of  plane-trees,  looked  more  beautiful  than 
ever  before.  Duskily  the  maple-trees  over-hung  the 
sidewalks  of  the  streets  and  the  blue-grass  on  the  lawns 


196  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

looked  almost  black.  He  went  to  a  hotel,  not  caring 
to  disturb  his  good  Irish  landlady  at  such  an  hour, 
though,  for  that  matter,  it  was  not  ten  yet  and  many 
loungers  were  about  in  the  streets. 

In  the  hotel  reading-room  some  commercial  travelers 
were  discussing  the  subject  of  township  bonds  in  a 
rather  excited  way,  but  Milford  gave  no  direct  atten- 
tion to  their  talk.  By  degrees,  however,  he  gathered 
that  a  fraud  in  these  bonds  had  been  perpetrated  all 
over  the  state :  a  fraud  the  mystery  of  which  had  not 
yet  been  unraveled. 

"  There's  no  saying  where  it'll  stop,'*  remarked  one 
of  the  men.  "  It  will  probably  run  up  into  the  millions  ; 
there  never  was  such  a  financial  breeze  in  this  state ; 
the  credit  of  our  civil  townships  is  utterly  ruined.  It  is 
doing  a  heap  of  harm." 

"Originated  in  Chicago,  didn't  it?  " 

"Don't  know — school-furniture  dealers  seem  to  be 
mixed  up  in  it." 

"  Yes,  fraudulent  contracts  for  fabulous  amounts  of 
desks,  chairs,  tables  and  all  that.  Blarney  and  boodle, 
you  know." 

"  There's  a  deep  old  head  somewhere  at  the 
bottom.  No  common  fellow  thought  out  the  bold 
scheme." 

"You  bet;  it  takes  intellect  to  set  up  such  a  job. 
Somebody's  getting  wealthy  by  lowering  the  record. 
Wish  I  had  ten  per  cent,  of  the  gross  earnings." 


A   BANKER   OF  BANTERSVILLE,  1 97 

"  Oh,  Canada's  too  frigid  ;  I  don't  think  I  could  stand 
the  cHmate." 

"  Money  is  a  very  warming  thing.  It  makes  Canada 
as  salubrious  as  Florida." 

"  So's  the  penitentiary." 

"Yes,  but  it's  getting  to  be  aristocratic,  just  the 
thing,  don't  you  know,  to  spend  a  season  with  the 
bank  presidents  and  retired  railroad  officials." 

"  They  do  say  that  it's  got  so  that  when  a  man  from 
the  states  arrives  in  Toronto  or  Montreal,  the  first 
thing  the  hotel  clerk  says  to  *im  is :  '  Can  you  beat 
extradition  ? '  same  as  to  say :  '  Is  your  crime  below 
the  grade  for  which  you  can  be  taken  back  on  a 
requisition?'  It's  got  to  a  high  pass,  and  some- 
thing's got  to  be  done  to  stop  it." 

"  Yes,  those  Canadians  ought  to  be  made  to  treat 
tourists  with  more  respect.  It's  ridiculous  to  have 
our  able  financiers  bullied  so  !  " 

Milford  heard  this  dialogue,  as  if  from  a  great 
distance,  and  while  its  facts  fastened  themselves  in 
his  mind,  the  subject  discussed  was  of  no  interest  to 
him.  Little  he  cared  just  then  for  the  financial 
status  of  Indiana's  civil  or  school  townships.  The 
bonds  might  go  for  naught,  for  all  he  was  concerned 
in  them.  He  had  lighted  a  cigar  and  was  sitting  by  a 
window.  His  hat  was  drawn  low  over  his  eyes,  while 
he  gave  himself  over  to  what  had  become  the  whole 
interest  of  his  life.     He  was  aware  before  he  glanced 


198  A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Up  that  Lawson  had  entered  the  room,  but  he  was  sur- 
prised when  he  saw  that  a  miserable,  dissolute-looking 
old  man  was  holding  on  to  his  arm  and  gazing  wist- 
fully up  into  his  face.  Lawson  started  perceptibly 
when  he  saw  Milford,  but  he  quickly  rallied  and  shook 
off  his  disreputable-looking  companion  long  enough 
to  step  forward  and  offer  his  hand  with  cordial  greet- 
ing. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,*'  he  exclaimed  ;  "hope  you  had  a 
good  time  in  Dixie  and  made  business  all  right. 
How've  you  been  ?  " 

He  did  not  wait  to  hear  Milford's  response,  but 
turned  at  once  and  took  the  old  man  by  the  arm 
almost  roughly. 

"  Come  up  to  my  apartment,"  he  said,  and  they 
appeared  to  precipitate  themselves  out  of  the  room. 


XIV. 

^^  TTrHAT  did  you  come  here  for?"  inquired  Law- 
VV  son,  in  a  voice  at  once  petulant  and,  so  to 
speak,  brutally  respectful,  as  he  thrust  the  little  old 
man  through  the  doorway  of  his  room  and  followed 
him.  "  Why  didn't  you  go  away  somewhere  and 
write  to  me?"  He  turned  and  shut  the  door,  locking 
it  and  taking  out  the  key,  as  if  every  thing  depended 
upon  a  strictly  private  interview.  His  face  was  red 
with  excitement.  "  Have  you  told  anyone  here  who 
you  are? " 

**No,  I  haven't  told — I  didn't  know  where  to  go  or 
what  to  do.  I  felt  sort  of  lost  and  lonely,  and  I 
hadn't  any  body  to  go  to  but  you,"  said  the  old  man, 
leering  half  affectionately  at  Lawson  and  nervously 
handling  his  hat.     *'  I  needed  help." 

"  How — how  did  you — how  came  you  out  ?  "  stam- 
meringly  demanded  Lawson. 

*'  Good  behavior — they  allowed  me  a  year  for  that ;  I 
was  the  best  one  in  the — I  was  the  best  one  they  had, 
they  said." 

The  deeply-furrowed  face  took  on  a  look  of  pathetic 
inquiry,  as  if  asking  for  sympathy  and  wondering  if  it 
would  get  it. 


2  00  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"How  did  you  get  here?  Who  sent  you  to  me?" 
Lawson  asked. 

"  They  gave  me  some  money  when  they  let  me  out. 
I  knew  you  were  here.     They  kept  me  posted." 

*'  It's  a  wrong  move — very  unfortunate.  You  must 
go  away  at  once."  The  young  man  paused  and  con- 
tracted his  brows  in  wretched  perplexity.  "  It  would 
ruin  me  if  the  people  here  should  find  it  out.  I'm 
on  the  point  of  ruin  as  it  is."  He  was  speaking 
half  in  soliloquy.  After  a  long  silence,  during 
which  he  gazed  abstractedly  into  the  old  man's 
rheumy  eyes,  he  exclaimed  with  sudden  force :  "  You 
must  start  to  Canada  on  the  first  train.  There's 
another  indictment  against  you;  don't  you  remem- 
ber?" 

"  But  it's  been  so  long,"  the  old  man  appealingly 
quavered,  "  do  you  think  they'd  push  me  on  that  ?  " 

"  Push  you  on  it !  "  cried  Lawson  ;  "  they'll  hound 
you  to  the  country's  end.  How  have  you  escaped 
them  even  this  long?  Oh,  there's  not  a  moment  to 
lose ! "     He  was  actually  trembling  and  his   lips  were 

blue.     **  I  couldn't  bear  a  thing  of  that  sort — no " 

Again  he  paused.  "  Oh,  the  infernal  luck !  Why 
couldn't  you  have  gone  to  Canada  and  have  written 
me  from  there?  It'll  be  sure  to  leak  out  that  you've 
been  here." 

"Don't  you  suppose  they'll  let  me  alone,  now?" 
the  old  man  whined.    "  I've  been  in  the — in  there  so 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  20 1 

long,  and  I'm  old  and,  and — and  weary;  they'd  ought 
to  let  me  rest  now." 

Lawson  shuddered,  and  turning  av/ay  walked  back 
and  forth,  his  face  scowling  and  livid,  his  foot- 
falls shaking  the  floor  with  their  weight. 

"  My  son — my  dear  boy,"  the  old  man  faltered  in 
beseeching  accents. 

**Hush!"  cried  Lawson,  in  a  stormy  half  whisper. 
"  Don't  use — don't  say — don't  you  know  you'll  be 
overheard,  and  then  I'm  ruined  forever  I  Can't  you 
hold  your  tongue  !  " 

The  father  sank  into  a  chair  and  the  son  stood  glar- 
ing at  him,  as  if  about  to  spring  upon  him. 

"  If  you  don't  want  me  I'll  go  away ;  I  don't  want 
to  have  you  suffer  on  my  account,"  said  the  old  man, 
in  a  dry,  husky  voice,  "  but  I  don't  think  they'll  want 
to  do  any  thing  more  with  me.  They  told  me  to  go 
and  do  right  and  I  needn't  fear.  They  said  I  suffered 
enough." 

*'  Who  told  you  that  ?  " 

"  They  told  me  up  at  the  pen — at  the — up  there, 
you  know,  where  they  had  me." 

"  What  does  that  amount  to  ?  What  have  they  got 
to  do  with  it?  It's  the  men  you — you  injured  whom 
you  have  to  fear;  they  didn't  say  you  could  go  and 
sin  no  more."  He  paused  abruptly  and  snapped  his 
finger  and  thumb  together  savagely.  Presently  he 
went    on    to    say :      "  Besides,    what  does    it  matter  ? 


202  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Your  presence  here  would  ruin  me,  ruin  me.  It  would 
precipitate — no,  it's  no  use  to  talk,  you'll  have  to  go, 
to-night,  right  now,  before  any  body  gets  suspicious 
and  begins  to  inquire  and  ask  questions.  I'll  give  you 
money  enough  to  take  you  to  Canada  and  then  I'll 
send  you  all  you  need." 

"Yes,  you'd  ought  to  do  that;  it's  nothing  but 
what's  right,  considering  that  I'm  your  fath — " 

"Hush!  Hell!  can't  you  understand  any  thing? 
Do  you  want  to  tell  every  body  ?     Are  you  crazy  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no  ;  I  forgot.  I'll  do  whatever  you  say  ; 
it  ain't  much  matter  about  me,  any  way,  I  suppose, 
so's  I'm  let  alone  and — don't  have  to  go  back  to  the— 
to — go  back  there  where  I  was.  Oh,  Chester,  I 
couldn't  stand  another  day,  not  another  day  of  that 
horrid  life  ;  it  would  make  me  crazy — it  would  kill 
me ! "  The  withered,  sunken  face  was  lifted  appeal- 
ingly,  and  the  shriveled  lips  writhed. 

"  Well,  you  shan't  go  back,  I'll  see  to  that ;  but  you 
mustn't  stay  here.  The  first  north-bound  train  goes 
at  half-past  twelve ;  you  must  leave  on  that."  He 
consulted  his  watch.  "  It's  an  hour  and  a  half  to  the 
time." 

"Yes,  I'll  go,"  said  the  father,  forlornly  fumbling  in 
his  coat-pocket;  "but  I'm  terribly  tired  and  sleepy." 
He  drew  out  a  soiled  red-cotton  handkerchief  and 
tremblingly  wiped  his  eyes.  "  If  I  could  just  only 
stay  with  you  one  night,  Chester — " 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  203 

"  No,"  interrupted  Lawson,  "  not  for  the  world  ; 
I'd  rather  die  every  minute  for  a  year.  You  don't 
understand  how  I  am  situated,  or  how  your  presence 
would  destroy  me,  but  I  do.  No,  you  must  go.  I'll 
put  you  in  a  sleeping-car — you'll  be  comfortable." 

"  Yes,  you'd  ought  to  fix  me  comfortably ;  I'm  your 
— well,  well,  it's  all  right,  I  s'pose;  I  forget  so  easily. 
Somehow  the  whole  world  seems  dim  and  strange 
since  I  got  out.  I  don't  feel  right ;  my  head  seems 
light." 

Lawson  remained  silent :  his  eyes  bent  on  the  floor, 
his  brows  drawn  together. 

The  old  man  looked  over  his  son  from  head  to  foot. 
with  a  mild  interest  lighting  his  face. 

**  You're  so  healthy-looking,  so  very  broad,  and  tall, 
and  stout,  Chester,"  he  said,  with  a  trace  of  pride  in 
his  voice,  "  and  look  so  much  like  your  mother  did." 
He  mused  awhile  before  he  added  :  "  They  told  me 
she  got  a  divorce  from  me  and  married  again  before 
she  died.     I  don't  know — " 

Lawson  suddenly  stretched  forth  one  of  his  hands, 
as  if  to  close  the  old  man's  mouth,  and  exclaimed: 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  stop  !  Haven't  I  told  you  that 
this  talking  won't  do  ?  "  He  began  walking  the  floor 
again,  with  his  hands  clasped  over  the  back  of  his  neck, 
his  heavy  head  hanging  forward  on  his  chest. 

"You  and  I  are  all  that's  left  of  the  family,  Chester; 
just  you  and  I,"  the  old  man  remarked,  presently,  in  a 


204  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

retrospective  voice ;  "  and  it  looks  as  if  we  ought  to 
stay  close  together.  The  world  is  so  big  to  be  all 
alone  in."  He  shrugged  his  narrow,  tapering  shoul- 
ders and  shivered,  like  one  in  a  draught  of  chilly  air. 
"  But  then,  we  can't  keep  together,  I  s'pose,  if  it  would 
do  you  such  great  harm.  I'll  go ;  it's  right  that  I 
should." 

*'  Yes,  it*s  right/*  said  Lawson.  "  It's  the  only  safe 
thing  for  you  and  for  me,"  He  looked  at  his  watch 
again  impatiently,  then  continued  walking  heavily  and 
slowly  back  and  forth. 

''  I  oughtn't  to  have  come,  I  reckon,"  the  father 
murmured,  "  but  I  couldn't  see  what  else  to  do. 
They  didn't  give  me  much  money — it  wouldn't  last 
long ;  but  it's  all  the  same  anyhow,  if  I  go  off  to — 
where  did  you  say  I  must  go  to  ?  " 

"Canada;  stop  at  any  little  town  up  there  and 
write  to  me.     I'll  send  you  plenty  of   money." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go— I'll  write." 

Lawson  went  to  a  little  round  table  and  took  from 
under  a  crimson  cloth  a  tall  black  bottle  labeled 
Cognac,  and  a  small  glass  goblet.  He  poured  a  liberal 
draught  of  liquor;  its  pungent  fragrance  filled  the 
room.     The  old  man's  eyes  glittered. 

"  Drink  this,"  said  Lawson,  offering  his  father  the 
glass ;  *'  it  will  strengthen  you.     It  is  brandy." 

The  bony  little  hands  clutched  it,  and  the  weak, 
tremulous  lips  eagerly  drank  it  dry. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  205 

Lawson  swallowed  a  glass-full  of  this  brandy  with 
scarcely  less  show  of  thirst. 

"  It  does  help  me,"  said  the  old  man,  straightening 
himself  in  his  chair.  "  I  feel  a  good  deal  better 
already.     It's  good  brandy." 

Lawson  looked  at  his  watch  once  more  and  said  : 

*'  It's  about  time  to  go.  Now  listen.  You  mustn't 
say  a  word  to  me  between  here  and  the  depot,  and  you 
must  pay  strict  attention  to  what  I  tell  you  to  do.  Do 
you  understand  ?  " 

'^  Yes." 

*'  Well,  come  on."  He  took  hold  of  his  father's 
arm.  A  half-hour  later  the  old  man  was  in  a  sleeping- 
car.  His  ticket  was  to  Detroit,  and  he  had  a  consider- 
able sum  of  money  with  which  to  go  into  Canada. 

Lawson  breathed  freer  as  he  walked  back  to  the 
hotel,  but  his  relief  was  of  a  sort  far  from  comforting. 
To  say  that  the  sudden  appearance  of  his  father  at 
Bankersville,  without  the  slightest  warning  in  advance, 
had  been  startling,  would  be  understatement.  The 
apparition  of  that  disheveled  and  forlorn  old  man  was 
more  terrible  than  a  vision  of  Death  with  his  scythe. 

Eighteen  years  in  a  penitentiary!  The  record  was 
written  all  over  that  sunken  face  and  shriveled  frame. 
What  dissipation  is  so  terrible  in  its  effect  as  the 
debauchery  of  remorse? 

Lawson  went  into  his  room  in  a  dark  enough  mood. 
Lately,  every  thing  had  been  going  wrong  with  him. 


2o6  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Many  of  his  investments  had  failed,  and  luck  seemed 
to  be  setting  hard  and  strong  against  him  from  all 
sides.  Just  now  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  desperate 
struggle  to  save  himself  financially :  a  struggle  that 
involved  him  in  a  web  of  transactions,  which,  if  his 
connection  with  them  were  made  public,  would  ruin 
him.  For  all  this,  however,  he  had  ample  nerve,  and 
the  fascination  of  so  extensive  and  dangerous  an 
undertaking  intoxicated  him,  to  a  degree,  and 
numbed  his  sense  of  fear.  But  another  thing  was 
weighing  upon  him  and  tearing  up  the  lowest  depths 
of  his  feeling.  He  loved  Marian  Wilton  with  such 
passionate  abandon  as  is  characteristic  of  a  nature  like 
his ;  and  of  late  he  had  been  pressing  his  suit  to  the 
point  where  always  the  bitterest  or  the  most  precious 
increment  is  added  to  one's  life.  She  had  evaded  him 
thus  far,  by  those  charmingly  annoying  turns  practiced 
by  young  women  who  waver  between  respect  for  a 
father's  preferences  and  the  promptings  of  the  old 
young  dream  of  love. 

Dr.  Wilton,  with  the  blindness  so  often  observable 
in  excellent  men,  favored  Lawson's  aspirations,  and 
occasionally  mildly  suggested  to  Marian  the  many 
advantages  of  the  union  if  it  should  be  consummated. 
As  to  her,  she  found  Lawson  very  agreeable,  charm- 
ing, in  many  respects,  but  all  the  time  she  felt  that 
he  lacked  something,  she  knew  not  what,  of  coming 
up  to  her  standard.     No  man  could  be  more  polite, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKEKSVILLE.  207 

more  kind,  more  eager  to  serve  her  every  whim,  and 
yet  he  repelled  her  finest  feelings  in  some  obscure  way ; 
it  was  as  if  her  intuitions  recoiled  from  a  glimpse,  now 
and  then  indirectly  caught,  of  that  vulgarity  and 
moral  coarseness  which  lay  at  the  base  of  his  soul. 
His  success  had  been  so  meteor-like  and  had  made 
such  a  fine  spectacular  effect  in  the  Bankersville  sky, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  her  not  to  recognize,  or  at 
least  fancy  she  could  recognize,  something  remarkable 
in  his  character.  Of  course,  she  knew  almost  nothing 
of  his  methods,  or  of  the  controlling  element  of  mere 
chance  that  had  done  so  much,  if  not  quite  all,  for  him 
in  his  dazzling  exploits.  Like  all  the  rest,  she  saw 
only  the  surface  results  of  his  daring  ventures,  supple- 
mented by  what  appeared  to  be  a  most  unselfish  gen- 
erosity of  spirit.  The  rumors  now  and  then  furtively 
set  afloat  in  the  streets  impugning  the  honesty  of  his 
operations,  had  never  reached  her,  nor  had  she  ever 
noted  in  his  conduct  any  thing,  however  slight,  indic- 
ative of  unworthy  motives ;  and  yet  while  in  his  pres- 
ence she  was  half  aware  that  he  was  repressing  some- 
thing, that  he  was  all  the  time  watchful,  lest  a  secret 
of  his  inner  life  should  leap  into  the  light  and  betray 
his  other  and  hidden  self. 

It  vexed  and  exasperated  Lawson  to  see  Milford 
return  to  Bankersville  just  at  this  time.  He  felt  that 
it  boded  evil  to  him — a  check,  a  hindrance,  if  not  a 
positive  end  to  his  tenderest  hopes. 


2o8  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

All  night  he  dreamed,  awake  or  asleep,  of  what  he 
would  do  to-morrow — how  he  would  go  to  Marian 
Wilton  and  urge  her  to  answer  him  before  Milford 
could  have  time  to  interfere.  He  tossed  in  his  bed 
and  revolved  a  wild  plan  for  getting  together  all  his 
available  means  and  of  persuading  Marian  to  consent 
to  a  hasty  marriage  and  a  swift  flight  to  Europe. 
Schemes  which  seemed  entirely  feasible  to  him  in  the 
long,  hot  spaces  between  his  snatches  of  sleep,  fell 
into  impracticable  confusion  when  day-light  came,  and 
the  noise  of  busy  life  arose  in  the  street  under  his 
windows. 

The  morning  papers  contained  two  matters  very 
unwelcome  to  Lawson's  eyes:  a  sudden  decline  in  the 
price  of  wheat,  and  what  appeared  to  be  the  begin- 
ning of  a  full  unravelment  of  the  fraudulent  school- 
furniture  bonds  of  the  Indiana  townships ;  but  start- 
ling as  these  things  were,  a  line  or  two  in  the  Scar 
drove  them  out  of  his  mind.  It  was  an  editorial  sen- 
tence, a  mere  interrogation,  without  comment  or 
further  remark,  as  follows ; 

•*  Who  was  the  shabby,  suspicious-looking  old  man 
who  tackled  Mr.  Chester  Lawson  so  unexpectedly  on 
yesterday  afternoon  ?  " 

He  glared  at  the  paragraph  in  a  paroxysm  of  rage, 
but  the  considerations  that  came  crowding  into  his 
brain  soon  beat  down  his  wrath.  This  was  no  matter 
about  which  he  could  afford  a  public  quarrel.  Evidently 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLB.  209 

the  editor  of  the  Scar  was  close  upon  the  track  of  his 
past  history,  and  one  misstep,  though  the  shortest  ever 
made,  might  precipitate  exposure.  What  a  coward  is 
he  who  guards  a  secret ! 

Lawson  felt  that  promptness  and  perfect  self-control 
might  serve  his  turn ;  so,  with  a  smiling  face,  he  went 
into  the  editorial  ofHce  of  the  Scar, 

"  Hello !  good  morning,  Mr.  Lawson,"  exclaimed 
the  editor,  jumping  up  and  coming  forward  to  meet 
him ;  "  come  up  to  black  my  eye  for  referring  to  your 
interview  with  that  tragic  old  cuss?  Who  the  devil 
was  he,  anyhow?  Never  saw  a  man  so  astonished  as 
you  appeared  to  be,  about  that  time." 

"  I  think  you  would  be  astonished,  too,  under  the 
same  circumstances,"  said  Lawson,  fixing  his  eyes 
steadily  on  those  of  the  editor  and  smiling  in  the  most 
cordial  way.  *'  Think  of  an  old  tramp  like  that  flying 
at  you  and  trying  to  hug  you  and  kiss  you,  right  there 
in  the  open  street !  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  "  laughed  the  editor ;  *'  ha,  ha!  it  was 
just  too  funny!     Who  was  he?  " 

"  Ask  some  one  who  knows,"  said  Lawson,  begin- 
ning to  feel  easy ;  "  he  was  as  strange  as  Adam  to  me. 
I  never  saw  him  before  in  my  life.  He  took  me 
thoroughly  unawares  and  upset  me  strangely.  I  never 
was  so  put  out  and  embarrassed." 

"  And  what  became  of  him?  " 

"  Don't  know  ;  evaporated  I  hope," 


2IO  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

There  was  a  curious  look  lurking  in  the  editor's  eyes 
that  Lawson  did  not  quite  like,  but  the  interview,  upon 
the  whole,  was  rather  reassuring.  Evidently  it  was 
mere  suspicion  of  some  vulgar  secret,  if  the  editor 
really  was  harboring  a  thought  of  any  thing  not  yet 
divulged  in  the  matter. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  ridiculous  spectacle  for  your  eyes, 
no  doubt,"  Lawson  remarked,  as  he  finally  rose  to  go ; 
*'but  it  had  a  touch  of  tragedy  in  it,  to  my  mind.  The 
old  fellow  looked  startlingly  pathetic  and  his  voice  was 
so  strangely,  beseechingly  insistent."  He  offered  the 
editor  a  dark,  costly  cigar,  and  added  :  **  We'll  end  the 
matter  in  smoke." 

All  this,  when  Lawson  was  gone,  struck  the  editor 
as  rather  peculiar,  especially  in  view  of  the  fact  that  a 
policeman  who  reported  news  items  for  the  Scar  had 
told  him  that  the  old  man  in  question  had  been  put 
into  a  sleeping-car  by  Lawson  and  sent  northward  on 
the  night-express  train. 

It  may  be  set  down  as  a  fact  that  something  is 
required  more  substantial  and  binding  than  a  Havana 
cigar,  no  matter  how  good,  to  bribe  a  country  editor 
when  he  scents  a  local  scandal  or  a  bit  of  mysterious 
personal  news.  Not  that  he  will  refuse  the  cigar — the 
chances  are  large  that  he  will  not — but  it  must  be 
remembered  that  the  press  is  no  respecter  of  persons, 
it  must  give  the  news  with  utter  impartiality. 

The  Scar  editor  sat   for   a  long  while,  leaning  far 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  211 

back  in  his  chair,  with  his  feet  on  the  sanctum  table, 
smoking  that  delicious  Cuban  niadiiro  and  meditating 
the  probabilities  of  working  up  a  sensation.  It  was 
very  plain  to  him  that  Lawson  had  not  told  the  truth, 
and  that  there  was  a  mystery  of  no  common  sort  con- 
nected with  the  coming  and  the  going  away  of  that 
peculiarly-dressed,  hungry-faced  old  man.  At  all 
events  he  thought  it  a  good  thing  to  investigate 
further,  and  that  it  might  serve  him  a  valuable  turn  to 
seem  to  know  more  than  he  really  did,  so  he  set  to 
work  in  earnest  with  a  pretty  clear  purpose  in  view. 

Meantime  Lawson  had  hurried  away  to  see  McGin- 
nis,  who  was  thoroughly  involved  in  the  same  financial 
web  which  the  young  man  felt  drawing  so  tightly 
around  him.  Something  must  be  done  at  once  or  the 
worst  must  befall.  But  not  even  McGinnis  dreamed 
of  the  desperate  extremes  to  which  Lawson  had  gone, 
or  of  the  wide  sweep  of  his  liabilities  ;  much  less  did 
the  shrewd-minded  banker  suspect  the  young  man's 
connection  with  the  township  frauds. 

If  Lawson  should  fail,  it  would  come  upon  Bankers- 
ville  like  a  thunderbolt  out  of  the  sun.  Nearly  every 
business  man  in  the  little  city  had  money  in  the  young 
speculator's  hands,  for  one  purpose  or  another,  and 
not  one  of  them  felt  the  least  uneasiness  in  that  regard. 
It  is  strange  how  slow  men  are  in  the  matter  of  sus- 
pecting those  who  should  be  suspected,  and  how  swift 
to  doubt  those  whom  it  is  base  injustice  not  to  trust. 


212  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

The  man  who  starts  with  luck  in  his  favor  finds  the 
breeze  of  public  sympathy  blowing  him  on  long  after 
his  own  forces  have  failed.  Lawson  had  had  some 
exceptional  advantages  in  this  regard.  McGinnis  had 
been  a  wall  of  strength  to  him  ;  and  then  it  is  so  seldom 
that  a  citizen  of  a  small  city  like  Bankersville  experi- 
ences such  a  run  of  fortune,  that,  when  it  does  really 
happen,  the  little  world,  as  a  rule,  goes  crazy  over  the 
dazzling  event  and  makes  a  hero  of  the  child  of  luck, 
— a  rule  faithfully  followed  in  the  case  we  are  now 
considering. 


XV. 


IN  the  afternoon  MiUord  walked  down  the  street 
leading  past  Dr.  Wilton's  house,  not  having  quite 
formed  the  purpose  of  calling  upon  Marian,  but  hoping 
that  she  might  be  out  on  the  little  lawn,  or  visible 
somewhere  else,  so  that  he  might  have  a  smile  from  her 
and  lift  his  hat  and,  perhaps,  stop  at  the  gate  and  say 
a  word  or  two  to  her.  He  had  given  all  the  forepart 
of  the  day  to  matters  in  his  office,  and  imagined  that 
he  had  need  of  this  walk ;  he  even  tried  to  satisfy  his 
conscience  with  the  suggestion  that  the  particular 
direction  his  steps  were  taking  had  been  chosen  by 
sheerest  accident. 

Lovers  and  gamblers  are  always  superstitious — every 
thing  is  prophetic  to  them.  They  see  signs  and  omens 
and  peculiar  meanings  in  the  commonest  and  smallest 
events.  Milford  felt  the  propitiousness  of  the  fact 
that  just  as  he  reached  the  gate  Marian  was  standing 
ready  to  step  into  an  open  carriage  that  stood  by  the 
side-walk.  Moreover,  she  was  looking  superbly  beau- 
tiful— tall,  fair,  strong,  dressed  in  blue  to  the  best  pos- 
sible effect  and  smiling  serenely,  as  if  anticipating  the 
pleasure  of  her  favorite  drive  down  the  valley  road. 


214  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

She  was  buttoning  a  glove,  while  the  small  negro 
boy  who  was  to  serve  as  driver,  was  standing  in  a  res- 
pectfully careless  attitude  holding  the  lines.  So  busy 
was  she  with  the  moment's  task,  she  did  not  notice 
Milford's  approach  until  he  was  very  near  her,  then 
she  started  and  blushed  prettily  as  she  recognized  him. 

**  Dear  me  !  "  she  cried,  "  you  startled  me  !  I  was  not 
expecting  you."  She  offered  her  hand  quite  cordially, 
advancing  a  step  so  that  he  might  take  it. 

"  How  bright  you  look !  I  need  not  ask  if  you  have 
been  well,"  he  said,  letting  her  hand  go  slowly  out  of 
his. 

"  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  driving  down  the  river 
road,"  she  remarked  ;    "  were  you  going  in  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  with  a  touch  of  wistfulness  in 
the  way  he  glanced  at  the  little  bay-window.  "  I  was 
just  walking  for  exercise." 

"  Oh,  then,  why  not  drive  with  me?  We  will  see  if 
you  like  the  Wabash  as  well  since  youVe  had  another 
look  at  the  Coosa — that's  your  Georgian  river,  isn't  it  ?  " 
she  inquired,  motioning  to  the  little  black  boy  to  turn 
the  carriage  so  that  the  wheel  would  be  out  of  the 
way ;  then  springing  in  before  Milford  thought  of 
offering  to  help  her,  she  called  out  :  "  Get  in  ;  the  old 
horse  is  asleep  whenever  he's  still,  and  papa  says  that's 
a  sign  he  isn't  driven  enough." 

Milford  got  in  beside  her  and  felt  a  calm,  delicious 
restfulness  and  contentment  steal  throughout  his  con- 


A  BA  NKER  OF  BA  NKERS  VILLE.  215 

sciousness.  The  boy  flourished  the  whip  and  the  old  fat 
horse  trotted  joggingly  down  toward  the  river.  They 
soon  passed  out  from  the  town  into  a  broad  lane  which 
wound  along  in  the  bluff  of  the  valley,  now  past  an 
orchard  heavy  with  apples,  now  in  the  shade  of  grand 
maple-trees,  and  anon  between  dusky  hedges  of  bois 
dare.  Overhead  was  a  cloudless  sky,  soft  and  blue, 
and  yonder  the  slow,  silvery  river  shimmered  through 
the  plane-trees  and  clumps  of  water-beech  and  papaw 
bushes.  There  was  a  light  breeze  out  of  the  north- 
west, cool  and  sweet  from  the  grassy  prairies  a  few 
miles  away.  They  heard  cow-bells  tinkling  and,  far  off, 
the  whirring  sound  of  a  steam-machine  threshing 
clover. 

If  they  had  chanced  to  look  back,  as  they  left  the 
gate  in  front  of  the  Wilton  cottage,  they  might  have 
seen  Lawson  approaching,  but  they  did  not  turn  their 
heads.  He  saw  them  get  into  the  carriage  and  his 
face  betrayed  the  disappointment  and  jealousy  he  felt ; 
not  the  dangerous,  tragic  passion  of  romance,  but  that 
rush  of  feeling  natural  to  a  man  of  his  temperament 
under  the  circumstance  of  the  situation.  He  stopped 
short,  and  turning  about  went  back  the  way  he  had 
come,  after  gazing  for  a  moment  at  the  departing 
vehicle  and  the  two  Jgures  sitting  so  close  to  each 
other  in  the  rear  seat.  It  was  a  moment  of  quiet, 
silent  tragedy,  wherein  one  man  began  to  be  happy — 
another  to  feel  the  weight  of  a  dreary  fate. 


2l6  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Milford  was  content  for  awhile  to  sit  beside  Marian 
in  silence  and  enjoy  the  fair,  balmy  weather  that  blew 
upon  his  face  and  through  his  heart.  Just  then  the 
valley  of  the  Wabash  was  indeed  more  lovely  than  the 
wildest  gorge  of  the  Coosa  or  the  Etowa. 

"  Did  you  get  my  letter?"  he  inquired  presently. 

*' What  letter?"  she  demurely  demanded ;  and  he 
saw  a  pink  flush  come  into  her  cheek. 

"  My  long  letter  from  Marietta?  " 

"  Did  you  write  one  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Silence  fell  between  them ;  she  seemed  quite 
satisfied  to  have  the  conversation  end  here,  as  she 
allowed  her  eyes  to  wander  over  some  rolling  stubble- 
fields  where  great  stacks  of  yellow  straw  shone  like  gold. 

"  Did  you  say  you  did  not  get  my  letter?  "  he  pres- 
ently ventured. 

"Did  I?     No."     She  did  not  look  toward  him. 

"No  to  what?  Did  my  letter  reach  you?"  he  per- 
sisted. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  me  how  I  have  progressed 
with  my  law-studies?  I  am  through  Blackstone,  and 
have  nearly  finished  the  first  volume  of  Kent.  Don't 
you  think  that's  pretty  good,  for  me?  " 

"Why  didn't  you  answer  my  letter?"  he  continued, 
as  if  examining  a  witness. 

"Why,  didn't  you  get  my  answer?"  She  could  not 
help  giving  him  a  quick  glance  of  quasi  inquiry. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  217 

'■'■  Did  you  write  one  ?  " 

*'  Now  I  know  you  didn't  get  it.  I'm  so  glad  ! "  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  always  write  such  foolish  letters.  My 
epistolary  gifts  are  not  worth  having." 

"  You  make  a  mighty  poor  start  for  a  lawyer,"  he 
remarked,  with  a  slight  laugh  ;  "  you  will  have  to  school 
your  face  and  teach  it  not  to  tell  tales." 

"You  don't  see  but  one  side  of  my  face,"  she 
responded,  "  and  you  can't  know  what  the  other  side 
may  be  telling." 

''See  how  the  river  is  ablaze  yonder!"  she  added, 
lifting  her  hand  and  pointing  at  a  sun-lit  stretch  of 
water  lying  between  them  and  a  brambly  bluff,  on  top 
of  which  some  cows  stood  strongly  outlined  against 
the  sky. 

The  road  now  made  a  turn,  its  course  running 
parallel  with  the  river  bank  and  up  the  stream,  with 
the  roofs  and  spires  of  the  little  city  on  one  hand  and 
the  broad  valley  on  the  other.  Some  thickly  set  vine- 
yards and  tidily  kept  market  gardens  bordered  the  way. 

''Where   are   you    taking   us   to,    Israel?"   Marian 
demanded  of  the  lounging  driver-boy. 
**  Up  dis  yer  way,"  was  the  ready  answer. 
"  Not  past  that  awful  starch  factory,  Israel,  please," 
she  continued  ;  "  and,  Israel,  we  are  not  curious  about 
the  pork-house,  do  you  hear?  " 

"  Yes'm,  I  not  gvvine  dar.  Fs  gwine  roun'  de  mill 
road—" 


2l8  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

*'  Not  past  the  brewery,  Israel  ?  " 

"  No'm,  up  de  Douglas  Street  road,  an*  roun*  by  de 
coffin  factory." 

*'  Oh,  Israel,  what  a  cheerful  choice !  but  go  on." 

"Yes'm." 

"  What  did  you  put  in  your  answer  to  my  letter?  " 
Milford  asked,  coolly  ignoring  the  attempted  diversion. 

"  Oh,  if  you  didn't  get  it  I  must  have  failed  to  mail 
it,"  she  exclaimed.     "I'm  so  forgetful  sometimes." 

"  Marian,"  he  murmured  ;  and  it  was  the  first  time 
he  had  dared  to  address  her  in  that  way ; ''  don't  be  too 
light  about  it — it's  a  great  deal  to  me." 

"  Israel,  this  surely  is  the  very  way  past  that  dis- 
gusting factory,  isn't  it?" 

"  No'm,  I  turn  off' n  dis  yer  road  d'rectly,  down  yer 
by  de  grabeyard." 

"  How  consoling." 

"Yes'm." 

Marian  and  Milford  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed,  she  in  genuine  merriment,  he  in  sheer  despair 
of  himself. 

She  carried  in  her  lap,  in  keeping  with  the  prevailing 
vogue,  one  of  those  unhandy  little  flat  leathern  bags 
with  a  clasp,  like  a  money-purse,  and  with  handles 
after  the  fashion  of  those  baskets  our  grandmothers 
were  fond  of.  This  she  now  opened,  carelessly  taking 
from  it  a  dreamy  film  of  white  lace  in  the  shape  of  a 
handkerchief.     Milford  was  actually  startled  when  his 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE,  219 

letter  to  her,  clinging  in  the  folds  of  the  delicate  lace, 
was  turned  out  upon  her  lap  in  plain  view :  the  bold 
superscription  uppermost. 

"Oh!"  she  involuntarily  ejaculated,  and  her  face 
flushed.  She  snatched  the  envelope  and  thrust  it  back 
into  the  bag. 

"  What  shocking  carelessness !  "  he  could  not  help 
saying. 

She  glanced  at  him  and  they  both  laughed  rather 
unrestrainedly. 

Their  direction  was  now  facing  the  breeze,  which, 
coming  down  the  river,  brought  a  smack  of  the  water's 
grateful  coolness  along  with  the  fragrance  of  the  fresh 
mold  heaped  around  the  celery  in  the  gardens. 

"Aren't  we  going  very  slow,  Israel  ?" 

"Yes'm." 

"  Well,  brighten  up  a  little." 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Marian,  did  you,  really  and  truly,  did  you  answer 
that  letter?" 

"  I  was  going  to  one  of  these  days,  but  you  didn't 
give  me  time." 

"Well,  answer  it  now.* 

"  I  haven't  any  pen  or  paper  or " 

**  Marian,  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

Her  cheek  was  very  pale  now  and  for  a  time  her 
eye-lids  drooped  heavily. 

Again  the  fat  old  horse  changed  his  course ;  and  now 


2  20  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

they  began  to  climb  out  of  the  valley  up  toward  the 
city. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  love  me,"  he  urged  in  a  low, 
passionate  half-whisper. 

She  trembled,  but  looked  for  a  second  straight  into 
his  honest,  earnest  eyes,  and  the  flush  leaped  back 
into  her  cheeks. 

"  Ki !  dey's  gittin*  'long  wid  de  gallus  putty  fas'," 
exclaimed  Israel,  at  this  sweet  moment,  pointing  with 
his  whip  to  call  attention  to  a  tall,  ominous-looking 
frame-work  of  new  timbers  inside  the  inclosure  of  the 
Bankersville  jail-yard,  which  was  now  in  plain  view 
from  the  road.  "  Up  dar  on  dat  highes*  place  's  wha* 
dey  ties  de  rope,  an'  down  dar  on  de  little  flat  plank 
fixin*  's  wha*  he  stan's  when  dey " 

**  Hush,  Israel!"  she  exclaimed.  "Go  some  other 
way,  please ;  I  don't  like  this.  Make  haste,  do  you 
hear?" 

"  Yes'm."  He  stopped  the  horse  and  added,  mean- 
time gazing  at  the  hideous  engine  :  "  I  dunno  which 
way  I  kin  go  now.     I's  kinder  boddered." 

"Turn  around,  you  little  villain,  and  drive  back!" 
cried  Milford,  feeling  a  shudder  run  through  his  frame. 

"  Yes,  sah."  Still  gazing  at  the  scaffold,  as  he  began 
pulling  the  horse  slowly  around,  he  remarked :  "  I's 
gwine  ter  see  dat  hangin',  sho's  I  lib.  I  never  did  see 
nobody  hung.     Spec'  it's  powerful  'musin'." 

"  Israel,  Israel !    I'm   ashamed  of   you,"  exclaimed 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  22 1 

Marian;  "hush  immediately;  do  you  hear?  Not 
another  word." 

"  Yes'm.     Guess  he  look  'musin'  when " 

"The  little  cannibal  !  The  Hottentot !  "  ejaculated 
Milford.     "Amusing,  indeed  !  " 

The  old  horse  jogged  briskly  back  down  the  slope 
to  the  river,  where  a  graceful  iron  bridge  had  been 
flung  across  from  bank  to  bank.  The  little  negro  kept 
looking  back  in  a  fascinated  way. 

"  Mus'  I  dribe  ober?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  Milford. 

"  Across  and  down  to  the  mill  bridge  and  then  over 
home,"  added  Marian. 

"Yes'm." 

They  crossed  the  airy  bridge  in  silence,  and  slowly 
made  their  way  to  the  top  of  the  river  terrace 
beyond. 

"  Ye  kin  see  de  gallus  f'om  yer  jes*  es  plain," 
remarked  Israel.     "  It  looks  bigger'n  it  did  when " 

"  Israel,  hush  !  " 

"Yes'm." 

"  If  you  speak  again — if  you  open  your  mouth 
again,"  cried  Milford,  "I'll  break  your  heathen  neck! 
Do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  sah ;  but  how  I  git  my  bref,  sah?  How  I 
gwine  ter  enjoy  dat  hangin'  ef " 

"  Israel ! " 

"  Yes'm." 


222  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

Israel  touched  the  old  horse  with  the  whip  and 
presently  muttered : 

"  Now  ye  can't  see  it  no  mo',  it  done  gone  erhind  de 
trees.     Hope  I  nebber  gwine  ter  be  hung  dat  a  way." 

The  shadows  were  stretching  out  across  the  beauti- 
ful valley ;  the  air  had  caught  something  like  a  fore- 
taste of  the  dewy  evening  freshness ;  they  could 
plainly  hear  the  rumble  of  gudgeons  and  the  creak  of 
cogs  coming  up  from  the  old  water-mill  among  the 
white-armed  plane-trees. 

"  I  have  never  told  you  how  proud  I  was  of  your 
speech,"  she  said  pleasantly,  though  she  felt  that  there 
was  a  touch  of  something  forbidden  in  the  subject. 

"  I  hate  myself  and  shall  always  hate  myself  on 
account  of  that  speech,"  he  exclaimed,  with  sudden 
energy,  his  voice  rising  almost  to  fierceness. 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  Her  eyes  fell 
before  the  concentrated  earnestness  of  his  gaze. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  she  ventured. 

'*  It  was  all  wrong,"  he  cried,  "  all  wrong.  I  had  no 
right  to  try  to  build  up  my  reputation  as  a  lawyer  at 
that  terrible  cost  to  that  boy." 

"  But  you  did  not,"  she  quickly  said ;  "  you  simply 
did  your  duty." 

"  Men  must  not  rent  themselves  out  to  do  duty  for 
a  price,"  he  bitterly  exclaimed.  "  I  did  not  act  under 
a  sense  of  duty." 

She  was  thoughtful  for  some  moments.     A  pair  of 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  223 

blue-birds  flitted  along  ahead  of  them  twittering  musi- 
cally and  merrily.  The  old  horse,  out  of  respect  for 
immemorial  habit,  shied  harmlessly  as  he  passed  the 
jarring,  growling,  dusty  mill. 

''I  should  have  been  terribly  disappointed  if  you 
had  failed,"  she  said,  at  length. 

"  I  knew  you  would,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  saw  that. 
Your  desire  controlled  me,  fired  me  with  an  almost 
reckless  enthusiasm.  I  did  it  for  you,  Marian,  for 
you  !  "  Then  he  suddenly  realized  the  almost  cowardly 
ring  his  words  might  seem  to  have.  He  was  afraid  that 
she  would  think  he  meant  to  put  the  burden  of  respon- 
sibility on  her,  and  he  tried  to  think  of  some  explana- 
tory phrases  with  which  to  soften  down  his  expression 
and  give  its  meaning  a  better  trend  ;  but  she  did  not 
wait  for  him  to  do  this. 

"Do  you  really  think  he  was  wrongfully  convicted? 
Wasn't  he  responsible  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  hur- 
riedly, almost  excitedly  cried. 

*'  I  don't  know — this  question  of  responsibility  is  a 
grave  one — but  I — "  he  hesitated,  *'I  didn't  mean  to 
blame  you  in  the  matter;  you  encouraged  me;  you 
didn't  make  me — that  is —  " 

"■  Oh,  but  it's  horrible,  awful,  if  they  are  going  to 
hang  him  and  he  innocent,  or  irresponsible,  all  because 
you  made  such  a  powerful  speech  !  And  I  urged  you 
on—" 

She  paused,  as  though  her  breath  had  been  caught 


224  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

from  her.  With  the  quickness  of  electricity  the  whole 
situation  was  revealed,  and  she  saw  the  part  Milford's 
conscience  was  assigning  to  her.  The  court-room  scene 
arose  before  her  with  a  ghastly  vividness,  and,  clothed 
in  a  new  and  terrible  significance,  it  startled  her  as  only 
a  sudden  and  unexpected  apparition  could. 

*'  I  made  you  do  it,"  she  said  with  strange  emphasis. 

*'  No,  you  didn't — you  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with 
it,  you —  " 

''  Yes,  I  did,"  she  said,  firmly  enough  now;  "  I  see  it 
all  very  plainly  ;  it  was  very  wrong.  I  was  weak  and 
ambitious." 

Milford  would  have  given  worlds,  had  they  been  at 
his  command,  to  be  able  to  recall  his  unfortunate 
words.  He  saw  that  they  had  gone  to  her  heart  and 
that  she  was  dismayed  at  the  picture  they  had  con- 
jured up.     Her  face  was  white  and  pinched. 

They  were  trundled  across  the  river  again,  this  time 
on  an  old  mossy,  wooden  bridge  whose  two  spans  met 
on  a  heavy  stone  pier  in  the  middle. 

"  Marian,"  Milfordpresently  said,  in  a  slow,  firm  way, 
"  you  shall  not  blame  yourself  ;  I  can't  bear  it,  and,  be- 
sides, it's  unreasonable,  it  has  no  foundation  in  fact." 

"  This  execution  must  not  take  place,"  she  ex- 
claimed, taking  no  notice  of  his  remarks.  "  It  must  be 
stopped.     I  can  not  sleep  until  it  is." 

**  Please  don't  be  excited,"  he  urged  gently,  ventur- 
ing to  touch  her  hand,  ''  you  pain  me  terribly." 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  225 

**  Don't,"  she  cried,  taking  away  her  hand.  *'  It  is  an 
awful  state  of  things.  Can't  there  be  a  reprieve,  a 
pardon,  or  something?  Hasn't  the  Governor  the 
power  ?  " 

'•Yes,  he  has,  but—" 

"  But  he  nmst !  "  she  cried,  anticipating  what  he  was 
going  to  say.     "  He  must,  he  shall !  " 

Milford  was  thoughtful  for  a  time,  as  his  mem- 
ory ran  back  over  the  whole  trial.  He  shook  his 
head. 

"  No,"  he  said,  ''  the  Governor  is  not  likely  to  inter- 
fere where  the  Supreme  Court  have  passed  upon  the 
case,  reviewing  the  merits.  It  is  too  late  to  hope  for 
any  thing  now." 

"  Too  late  I  No,  no,  not  too  late  ;  it  must  not  be, 
it  shall  not  be!"  She  spoke  firmly,  almost  coldly 
now,  but  her  little  gloved  hand  was  clinched  and  her 
eyes  were  very  bright. 

The  old  horse  pricked  up  his  ears  as  they  came  into 
the  street  leading  home,  and  forthwith  he  began  to 
quicken  his  gait. 

Milford  and  Marian  looked  at  each  other  as  the  car- 
riage stopped  at  the  Wilton  gate.  For  a  space,  neither 
stirred.  The  invisible  but  heavy  load  that  hung 
between  them  seemed  to  hold  them  where  they 
sat. 

Israel  turned  the  wheels  to  let  them  out,  then 
jumped  to  the  ground  and  stood  waiting,  holding  the 


226  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

lines.  He,  too,  had  his  burden  of  soul  disturbance. 
He  muttered  absent-mindedly : 

"  Ef  I  kin  git  ter  go  to  dat  hangin'  Ts  gwine  ter  be 
des  es  happy  es  a  big  sunflower,  kase  I  nebber  seed 
nobody  hung  afore  in  my  life.  Fs  gwine  ter  climb  onter 
de  top  o'  dat  high  fence  what's  roun'  de  gallus,  den  I 
kin  see  'im  a-hangin* — " 

Miss  Wilton  gave  the  boy  a  look  which  appealed  to 
his  great  love  for  her,  and  he  became  silent.  Milford 
got  out  and  helped  her  to  follow.  She  was  still  very 
pale  and  there  was  a  worried  look  noticeable  in  her 
face.     He  thought  she  wished  to  be  alone. 

''Will  you  come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  us?" 
she  asked  ;  "  I  see  papa  at  the  window.'* 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  must  go  to  my  office.  Give  him 
my  greetings." 

He  half  turned  to  go,  but  lingered  to  open  the  gate 
for  her. 

"  We  shall  see  you  soon,  I  hope,"  she  managed  to 
say  with  a  smile. 

*'  Yes,  I  will  come." 

He  walked  away  in  a  strangely  sad  mood :  a  mood 
for  which  he  could  not  have  accounted  satisfactorily 
even  by  coloring  his  predicament  as  strongly  as  he 
might,  save  by  admitting  that  he  had  given  Marian 
Wilton  a  blow  which  would  leave  an  incurable  wound 
in  her  pure  conscience.  Then  the  vision  of  that  gal- 
lows !     He  shuddered  inwardly  as  he  walked  along. 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  227 

The  thought  that  he  had  connected  her  with  the  dread- 
ful event  about  to  come  struck  him  now  with  bitter 
force.  What  cowardice  it  seemed  !  He  felt  that  he 
had  cast  upon  her  a  load  that  he  had  been  too  weak  to 
carry  for  himself. 


XVI. 

MARIAN  WILTON  was  not  inclined  to  be  over- 
imaginative,  nor  had  she  ever  shown  a  dis- 
position to  indulge  what  is  called  girlish  sentimen- 
tality. On  the  contrary,  she  often  carried  her  prac- 
tical treatment  of  whatever  came  up  to  be  consid- 
ered to  an  extreme  which  elicited  from  her  father  very 
decided  expressions  of  disapproval.  Not  that  he  ever 
scolded  her — that  could  not  have  happened — but  his 
views  of  the  scope  and  extent  of  woman's  usefulness 
were  thoroughly  old-fashioned  and  commonplace,  and 
he  often  gently  explained  them  to  her  in  a  way  sug- 
gestive of  what  he  should  like  for  her  to  do. 

They  were  great  comrades,  the  old  doctor  and  his 
daughter,  believing  in  each  other  without  reserve  and 
conferring  together  about  every  thing.  When  they 
agreed  on  any  proposition,  their  conference  was  not  a 
whit  pleasanter  than  when  they  disagreed ;  for  they 
always  separated  with  a  kiss  and  with  affectionate 
words  and  smiles.  The  doctor  was  not  a  deep  man  nor 
was  he  very  broad,  notwithstanding  that  he  considered 
himself  a  model  of  intellectual  liberality.  He  was  of 
the  old  school  in  every  thing,  and  yet  he  affected  many 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  229 

of  the  most  ultra  ways  of  the  radicals.  Especially  was 
his  patriotism  violent  and  his  prejudice  against  "  ex- 
confederates  "  bitter,  almost  unreasoning,  particularly 
about  the  time  that  an  election  was  coming  on.  He 
appeared  to  grow  almost  rabid  in  his  mild,  harmless 
way,  when  he  approached  the  ballot-box.  Despite  all 
this,  he  had  formed  a  liking  for  Milford,  which  had 
finally  ripened  into  a  deep  friendship  marred  by  noth- 
ing save  a  reserve  of  protest  against  the  young  man's 
"  rebel  record,"  a  protest  always  rather  unruly  when 
excited  to  activity  by  any  political  emergency,  espe- 
cially when  party-spirit  ran  high.  Just  now  there  was 
no  election  near  at  hand  ;  the  newspapers  were  amiably 
gloating  over  a  recent  victory,  or  were  looking  aftei 
the  mistakes  of  a  new  administration  with  one  eye,  and 
with  the  other  scanning  the  social  horizon  for  the  least 
cloud  of  crime  or  scandal ;  so  the  good  doctor  sat  in 
his  library  reading  Darwin's  Origin  of  Species,  and  feel- 
ing  quite  liberal  and  philosophic,  all  his  prejudices  in 
abeyance,  until  the  time  when  the  politicians  should 
need  his  help.  It  was  a  most  auspicious  moment  for 
Marian's  purpose.  She  came  in  and  sat  down  close 
beside  him  and  laid  a  hand  upon  his  stout  knee. 

"  Father,"  she  always  called  him  father,  instead  of 
papa,  when  she  was  very  serious,  almost  solemn. 

He  put  aside  his  book  and  smiled  placidly  through 
his  white,  soft  beard  and  peculiar  half-moon  spectacles. 

"What  is  it,  daughter?" 


230  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

**  I  have  something  very  important  and  urgent  that  I 
want  you  to  consider,"  she  said,  looking  straight  at 
him  with  her  strong,  honest  blue  eyes,  "  and  there  is 
no  time  to  lose,  not  a  moment." 

"  Why,  what  can  it  be  ?  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  you  look 
excited,  Marian." 

"  I  am  excited  ;  it's  enough  to  excite  any  body,"  she 
responded,  *'  and  I  don't  see  what's  to  be  done — but  it 
must  be  done,  too  !  " 

"  Why,  dear  me,  child,"  he  said,  laying  his  white, 
plump  hand  on  her  shining  hair  ;  **  I  never  saw  you  so 
nervous  ;  what  is  it  ?     Come,  be  calm  and  tell  me." 

"  Oh,  father  !  father !  "  she  cried,  and  resting  her  head 
on  his  knee  she  burst  into  hysterical  sobbing. 

"  Daughter  !  daughter !  "  ejaculated  the  old  man, 
throwing  one  arm  gently  around  her  and  drawing  her 
closer  to  him.  *'  This  is  strange  ;  speak,  dear,  tell  me 
what  it  is." 

She  was  ashamed  of  her  weakness  and  made  a  brave 
effort  to  get  control  of  herself.  A  vague  suspicion  had 
leaped  into  Dr.  Wilton's  mind  that  here  was  a 
trouble  that  in  some  way  was  connected  with  love.  He 
was  an  old  man,  but  not  so  old  that  he  had  forgotten 
the  symptoms  of  tender  passion. 

''Is  there  no  way,  father,  by  which  that  poor  boy  can 
be  saved  ? "  Marian  presently  demanded,  in  a  steady 
enough  voice. 

"What  boy?"  bluntly  inquired  the  father,  his  face 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  231 

showing  perplexity  blended  with  curiosity  and  a  certain 
kind  of  relief  from  the  strain  her  mysterious  grief  had 
put  him  to. 

"  Hempstead — the  boy  they're  going  to  hang — oh, 
father,  he  must  be  saved  from  that  death — he  must 
be!" 

Dr.  Wilton  was  silent  for  a  short  time,  then  he 
smiled.  A  man  never  allows  a  chance  to  go  by  with- 
out exhausting  all  the  material  it  offers  of  persecuting 
for  her  opinions'  sake  the  woman  who  is  just  then 
nearest  him. 

"■  You  ought  to  be  a  lawyer  enough  by  this  time,  to 
know,  my  dear,  that  his  doom  is  sealed,"  he  said  in  his 
mildly  sarcastic,  loving  way. 

"  But  I  don't  know,"  she  exclaimed,  almost  pettishly, 
her  lips  pouting  prettily  ;  "  it's  an  extreme  case,  and 
oh,  papa,  he's  not  guilty,  that  is,  he's  not — not  respon- 
sible, you  know,  and  it  was  Mr.  Milford's  great  speech 
that  led  the  jury  to  put  on  the  death  penalty,  and 
I " 

"  Daughter,  you  are  getting  excited  again  ;  don't  talk 
so  fast.  What  have  you  been  doing  to  get  yourself  so 
wrought  up?  " 

**  I  caused  him  to  do  it — I  am  to  blame  for  it,"  she 
went  on. 

"  You  !  child,  you  are  beside  yourself !  Why,  my 
dear,  poor  daughter,  you  never  saw  him  before  the 
trial — you  are " 


232  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"■  Never  saw  Mr.  Milford  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  understand " 

"  His  speech,  his  cruel,  deadly  speech.  I  urged  him 
and  forced  him  ;  yes,  forced  him  to  make  it  against  his 
better  feelings,  contrary  to  his  conscience,  and  that 
was  what  condemned  the  poor  boy.  Oh,  I  can't 
bear  it ! " 

Dr.  Wilton  felt  deeply  touched,  and  yet  there  seemed 
to  be  something  in  the  situation  that  vaguely  appealed 
to  his  subdued  love  of  comedy.  He  could  not  enter 
fully  into  Marian's  sentiments ;  his  imagination  gave 
no  over-pathetic  glamour  to  the  facts  as  they  existed. 

"  Marian,  this  is  absurd,  ridiculous,"  he  said,  almost 
sternly,  taking  off  his  gibbous  spectacles  and  putting 
them  on  again  immediately  ;  "  you  talk  wildly  and — 
and  hysterically.  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  you  ; 
you're  not  like  yourself,  at  all." 

She  brushed  the  tears  from  her  cheeks  and  sat  up 
straight  in  her  chair,  and  he  could  see  that  she  was 
focusing  her  will  on  something  about  which  she  in- 
tended to  be  very  determined. 

"  Papa,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  save  that  boy's 
life  and  I  am  going  to  do  it,"  she  said.  "  It  will  render 
my  whole  life  miserable  if  I  don't." 

"  But  what  interest  have  you  in  a  murderer,  Marian  ? 
It  was  a  cold-blooded,  premeditated  way-lay  and  as- 
sassination. His  conviction  was  legal  and  his  punish- 
ment will  be  just." 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  233 

"  It's  not  SO  much  him,  as — as — "  she  faltered  with 
a  flushing  face.  "  Mr.  Milford  is  very  much  distressed, 
and  I — I  feel  that  I  caused  it  all." 

A  crepuscular  gleam  of  the  very  truth  began  to  en- 
lighten the  old  man's  mind. 

"You  caused  what?"  he  quite  peremptorily  de- 
manded. 

Her  eyes  fell.  She  made  two  or  three  movements 
to  speak  before  she  finally  said  in  answer  : 

"  He  wanted  to  abandon  the  prosecution — he  felt  so 
sorry  for  the  young  prisoner — but  I  urged  him  not  to 
do  it.  I  begged  him  to  make  that  speech.  I  suggested 
points  to  him.  I  held  up  to  him  the  reputation,  the 
fame  he  could  make  by  a  successful  prosecution  ;  I  in- 
cited him,  inspired  him,  and  he  broke  over  his  con- 
science to — to  do  what  I  wanted  him  to  do,  and  I'm 
just  as  miserable  as  I  can  be  and  so  is  he." 

At  this  point  the  twilight  in  the  mind  of  Dr.  Wilton 
broadened  into  the  glare  of  day.  He  saw  that  his 
daughter  was  in  love  with  Milford.  The  discovery  was 
not  very  welcome,  not  quite  pleasing.  Indeed,  it  vexed 
him. 

"  This  is  a  sort  of  sentimental  stuff  I  was  not  ex- 
pecting from  you,  Marian,"  he  said,  making  a  motion 
as  if  to  get  up  from  his  chair.  She  put  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder  very  tenderly,  and  fixed  her  eyes  earn- 
estly on  his. 

"  Father,"  she  murmured,  and  her  voice  was  very 


234  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

rich  and  sweet.  "  Father,  I  love  him — you  won't  object 
— you  won't  be  offended — you " 

"Daughter!" 

"  Papa." 

She  precipitated  herself  upon  him  and  with  her 
strong,  young  arms  wound  about  him  she  kissed  his 
forehead,  and  his  lips,  and  his  cheeks.  He  could  not 
say  a  word  ;  he  was  as  much  surprised  by  her  impetu- 
ous embrace  as  he  was  touched  by  her  tenderness  and 
confiding  outrightness.  He  stammered  confusedly, 
tried  to  push  her  away  with  one  hand  while  he  was 
pressing  her  close  to  him  with  the  other. 

"  Well,  well,  well,  I  must  say  !  "  he  ejaculated  ;  "  this 
is  remarkable.  I  don't  understand  how  it  can — how 
you — how  I — how " 

"  It's  true,  any  way,"  she  said,  releasing  him  with  a 
sigh  and  a  rather  dubious  smile.  ''  And  it's  too  late  to 
change  it  now." 

"  That  is  what  I  think;  the  sentence  will  have  to  be 
executed  ;  there's  no  way  to  save  him  now,"  remarked 
Dr.  Wilton  after  a  little  thoughtful  pause.  Her  smile 
became  more  secure — she  even  laughed  ;  her  father 
mixed  up  the  different  subjects  so  strangely  it  was 
almost  funny.  But  she  grew  serious  again  in  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  I  can't  think  of  giving  up  the  attempt,  father ;  I 
feel  bound  to  do  it,  because  I  know  it  was  I  who 
brought  it  all  about,  and  he  knows  it,  too.     Now  help 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  235 

me,  won't  you  ?  There's  a  good,  kind,  generous  papa. 
Tell  me  what  to  do." 

"Do?    You  can't  do  any  thing,  Marian." 

"  Oh,  but  I  must,  I  will ;  there's  no  other  honest 
course.  He  feels  like  a  murderer,  and  I  like  an 
accessory." 

"  He  is  one.  Didn't  he  hide  behind  a  hay-stack  and 
shoot  young  Wilkins?" 

*'  Well^  but  I  mean  Mr.  Milford— I  mean  that  he 
feels  that  way." 

"  Oh,  he— he  feels  that  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  caused  him  to  do  it.  I  persuaded  him, 
urged  him,  goaded  him  on  to  do  it,"  she  vehemently 
exclaimed.     "  I  forced  him  to  do  it." 

"To  do  what?" 

"  Father,  don't  you  understand  that  he  thinks 
young  Hempstead  ought  not  to  be  hanged — he 
thought  so  all  the  time,  and  didn't  want  to  prosecute 
him  so  mercilessly;  but  I  was  ambitious  for  him,  I 
wanted  him  to  be  victorious  over  that  great  criminal 
lawyer,  and  I  made  him — yes,  just  made  him  have  no 
conscience,  no  mercy,  no  pity.  So  you  see  it  was  I 
that  really  turned  fate  upon  the  poor  boy." 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  Marian,  you  surprise  and — and 
trouble  me.  This  is  all  sentimentality ;  you  are  allow- 
ing your  feelings  to  override  your  judgment.  Come, 
come,  this  won't  do !  "  He  was  wiping  his  spectacles 
vigorously   with  his   handkerchief   as  he    spoke,   and 


236  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

his  face  showed  that  he  felt  more  than  his  words 
implied. 

"  But  the  Governor  might  reduce  his  punishment 
to  imprisonment  for  life?"  she  ventured,  in  that 
meekly  firm  way  her  father  knew  so  well  how  to  inter- 
pret ;  "  there  might  be  a  petition?  " 

"  It  would  do  no  good — none  whatever.  They  are 
criticising  the  Governor  now  for  being  too  lenient  to 
criminals ;  he  can't  afford  to  interfere."  Dr.  Wilton 
said  this  with  the  air  of  putting  an  end  to  the  dis- 
cussion. 

They  had  risen  and  were  standing  nearly  facing 
each  other:  Marian,  with  hands  lightly  clasped  before 
her,  her  head  drooping,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet  at 
her  feet.  She  was  almost  as  tall  as  her  father,  and  her 
figure  was  superbly  strong  and  well  turned.  In  a 
moment  she  looked  up  and  said  : 

"  If  you  will  not  forbid  me,  I  will  get  a  petition 
and  take  it  to  the  governor.  I  must  do  that 
much." 

Dr.  Wilton  scarcely  knew  what  to  say.  It  was  a 
proposition  he  did  not  wholly  like,  and  yet  he  saw  by 
Marian's  face  and  manner  that  she  could  not  bear  a 
refusal.  If  he  had  been  closely  questioned  he  would 
have  been  compelled  to  admit  that  her  statement  of 
the  case  had  aroused  in  him  some  strange  feelings.  If 
she  really  felt  that  she  had  caused  the  conviction  of 
young  Hempstead,  it  would  make  her  just  as  miserable 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  237 

as  if  it  were  true.  Moreover,  her  influence  on  Milford, 
no  matter  how  imaginary,  evidently  was  a  reality,  so 
far  as  her  conscience  was  concerned.  As  president  of 
the  college,  and  as  professor  of  mental  and  moral 
philosophy,  he  had  been  training  his  mind  for  years  to 
grapple  with  obscure  problems  of  the  soul  and  mind, 
and  now  he  felt  this  one  taking  great  proportions.  He 
could  not  solve  it  in  a  moment.  It  was  a  great  relief 
to  him  when  the  door-bell  rang  and  Miss  Crabb  was 
admitted.  She  had  a  copy  of  Arthur  Selby's  maga- 
zine in  her  hand,  in  which  the  editor,  reviewing  the 
leading  novel  of  the  season,  stated  that  it  had  leaked 
out  that  its  author  was  a  Mr.  Milford  of  Bankersville, 
Indiana. 

^'I'm  just  perfectly  delighted,"  cried  Miss  Crabb,  as 
soon  as  greetings  were  over  and  Dr.  Wilton  had 
excused  himself  and  retired  ;  "  it's  perfectly  charming 
to  think  that,  after  all,  Bankersville  has  the  honor  of 
owning  the  new  star  of  the  literary  heavens  !  " 

She  proceeded  to  read  aloud  from  the  magazine  the 
flattering  notice  of  the  novel  and  the  surmise  as  to  its 
author. 

"  It  is  a  mistake,"  said  Marian.  "  I  am  quite  sure 
that  Mr.  Milford  did  not  write  the  book." 

"  Have  you  read  it?" 

"  No." 

"Well,  I  have,  and  it's  just  as  much  like  him  as  it 
can  be.     You'll  say  so  yourself  when  you  read  it.     I'll 


238  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

send  you  my  copy — advance  sheets  unbound,  you 
know.     I'm  going  to  give  it  a  rousing  send-off  here." 

*'  But  you  mustn't  say  he  wrote  it " 

*•  Oh,  certainly  not ;  but  I'll  copy  this  from  the  mag- 
azine, you  know.  That  will  be  enough.  His  fortune 
is  made — this  book  has  put  him  on  the  very  top 
wave." 

Marian  let  go  a  little  fluttering  sigh,  but  said 
nothing. 

Miss  Crabb  went  on  to  talk,  skipping  from  one  sub- 
ject to  another,  until  finally  she  said : 

"  They're  circulating  a  petition  to  get  Hempstead's 
sentence  reduced  to  imprisonment ;  all  the  jurors  have 
signed  it — so  has  the  judge.  I  hope  it  will  succeed, 
don't  you  ?  " 

Marian  started,  she  could  scarcely  speak. 

"  Oh,  if  it  can  be  done,  what  a  relief  it  will  be  !  "  she 
cried. 

**  Yes,  the  whole  town  is  gloomy.  Just  to  think,  it 
is  the  first  death-sentence  ever  pronounced  in  Bank- 
ersville !  And  that  dreadful  scaffold  !  Ugh  !  I  dream 
about  it  of  nights.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  the  pub- 
lisher of  the  Scar  has  refused  to  sign  the  petition,  and 
I  just  know  it  is  because  he  thinks  the  horrible  affair 
will  sell  a  large  edition  of  his  disreputable  sheet.  But 
every  body  is  signing  it,  just  to  save  the  credit  of  our 
town,  you  know ;  Bankersville  couldn't  afford  to  have 
such  a  blood-curdling  spectacle  within  its  limits." 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  239 

"  Have  any  women  signed  the  petition  ? "  asked 
Marian. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  but  it  would  be  a  good 
idea,  wouldn't  it  ?  "  Miss  Crabb  responded ;  then  con- 
tinued glibly :  "  If  they  could  get  a  large  number  of 
women's  names,  it  would  be  a  great  influence  ;  women 
are  gaining  in  influence  every  day,  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"Yes — I  don't  know — it  seems  so,"  Marian  falter- 
ingly  acknowledged  ;  "  we  must  do  our  best  in  this 
endeavor." 

"It's  a  good  suggestion,  I'll  see  about  it,"  Miss 
Crabb  exclaimed.  "  Why  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea 
to  get  the  murdered  boy's  parents  to  sign  it?"  she 
went  on.  "  His  mother  especially,"  she  added,  as  she 
followed  the  thought  with  her  usual  audacity.  She 
wound  up  by  saying:  "  It  was  Mr.  Milford's  splendid 
speech — that's  what  every  body  says — more  than  it  was 
the  testimony,  anyway.  Of  course  the  boy  ought  to 
be  severely  punished,  as  a  warning,  you  know.  Oh, 
how  Mr.  Milford  is  rising !  I  envy  him.  Why 
couldn't  I  have  written  that  novel?  But  then  a 
woman's  got  no  chance,  unless  she  takes  a  man's  name, 
like  Craddock,  or  George  Eliot,  or  Georges  Sand,  or 
George  Fleming.  I  won't  do  that ;  I  won't  have  fame 
if  I  have  to  pretend  I'm  a  man  to  get  it  !  " 

"  Why,  I  think  you  are  getting  fame  without  any 
thing  of  that  sort,"  said  Marian,  rather  abstractedly. 


240  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  I  thought  SO  too,  a  few  months  ago,"  Miss  Crabb 
frankly  and  somewhat  bitterly  acknowledged,  ''  but  I 
can't  get  a  thing  printed  now,  not  a  thing  ;  just  every 
thing  comes  back  with  the  same  whine  about  crowded 
columns  and  manuscripts  on  hand,  and  regrets  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  But  then  Mr.  Milford's  novel  is  a 
good  one — superbly  good  ;  it  deserves  all  the  praise  it 
gets  and  more.  You  shall  read  it.  I  don't  think  I 
shall  write  any  more  myself.  I'm  utterly  discouraged. 
This  thing  of  literature  is  a  good  deal  like  gambling, 
the  lucky  ones  walk  off  with  the  prizes.  Merit,  for 
merit's  sake,  doesn't  have  much  show,  that  is,  if  a 
woman  offers  it.  I  suspect  that  the  world  was  made 
to  a  man's  order,  in  the  first  place  ;  anyway,  men  have 
got  the  start  and  are  likely  to  keep  it.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?  I  wish  I  were  a  man  for  just  one  year — if 
only  to  test  the  world's  sincerity." 

When  Miss  Crabb  had  gone  away,  Marian  gave  her- 
self up  to  the  consideration  of  how  she  could  aid  in 
obtaining  commutation  of  Hempstead's  sentence. 
This  thought  had  taken  complete  control  of  her. 

Miss  Crabb  was  too  busy  with  her  own  grievance  to 
notice  the  effect  her  talk  about  young  Hempstead's 
case  had  made  upon  Marian.  Indeed,  what  to  her  was 
life,  or  death,  even  by  the  gibbet,  compared  with  her 
passion  for  writing  and  the  bitterness  of  her  sense  of 
failure  ?  Arthur  Selby  had  steadily  refused  all  her 
manuscripts  lately,  and  the  future  was  dreary  enough 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  241 

in  her  eyes.  She  felt  that  she  was,  in  some  way,  the 
victim  of  a  conspiracy,  and  that  Arthur  Selby  was  the 
arch-conspirator.  She  read  and  re-read  the  rejected 
manuscripts,  and  with  each  reading  their  beauties  of 
style  and  their  force  of  construction  appeared  to  grow 
apace.  Oh,  if  she  could  but  find  some  publisher  who 
cared  just  a  little  for  true  merit !  She  walked  sadly 
to  her  office  and  attacked  the  pile  of  exchanges  with 
her  scissors. 

Meantime,  Marian  was  sad  enough.  She  sat  in  the 
little  library  trying  in  vain  to  think.  Lawson  called 
in  the  evening,  and  although  she  essayed  to  be  politely 
sociable,  she  was  not  like  herself  to  him.  She  tried  to 
sing  when  he  asked  it,  but  it  was  a  dreary  failure  ;  her 
voice  seemed  to  have  partaken  of  her  gloom  :  it  had 
lost  its  charm. 

When  he  had  risen  to  go,  she  said  to  him : — 

"There  is  a  petition  to  the  Governor  in  young 
Hempstead's  behalf,  I  have  heard." 

"  Yes,  but  it's  useless  ;  the  Governor  won't  notice 
it,"  he  responded. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Oh,  I'd  give  any  thing,  every 
thing  to  have  it  done — to  have  the  boy  saved.  I  feel 
so  sorry  for  him,"  she  exclaimed,  her  voice  trembling 
sweetly. 

It  may  have  been  much  owing  to  Lawson's  peculiar 
frame  of  mind  just  then,  but  her  words  went  to  his 
heart  like  a  cry  of  despair,  so  plaintive,  so  quaveringly 


242  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

appealing  that  he  stood  and  looked  at  her  for  a 
moment  without  speaking.  She  looked  to  him  like  a 
living  but  breathless  statue  of  prayer. 

"  Do  you  care  a  great  deal  about  this?  Is  there  any 
great  reason  why  you  want  the  boy  saved  ?  Is  it  a 
very  dear  wish  of  yours?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  she  tremblingly  cried,  clasping  her 
hands  and  putting  them  against  her  breast ;  "  it  is  my 
very  dearest  wish  now.  It  is  everything  to  me,  every- 
thing." 

**Then  it  shall  be  done,"  he  said,  his  voice  heavy 
and  positive.     "  Good-night." 

He  left  her  abruptly,  striding  out  through  the  hall 
with  a  heavy,  measured  tread. 

In  some  way  she  caught  something  more  than  hope 
from  his  voice  and  manner.  It  was  as  if  he  had  shown 
her  the  key  of  the  jail.  A  sense  of  relief  took  posses- 
sion of  her,  and  she  sank  into  a  chair  as  one  who  is 
weak  from  relaxation  after  great  pain. 

Lawson's  apparent  success  in  every  thing  he  had  un- 
dertaken served  to  assure  her  that  if  he  willed  the  con- 
victed boy's  reprieve  and  the  commutation  of  his  sen- 
tence, he  would  have  his  way. 


XVII. 

DOWNS  had  one  bad  habit,  which,  however  evil 
and  ugly  as  an  example,  seemed  in  his  case  to 
have  no  growing  tendency.  It  consisted  of  a  matuti- 
nal pilgrimage  to  the  nearest  bar  where  a  glass  of 
whisky  could  be  had  for  the  price  of  ten  cents.  This 
one-before-breakfast  sip  was  all  the  stimulant  he  would 
take  in  one  day.  Nothing  could  have  induced  him  to 
leave  off  the  habit  or  to  increase  it  in  any  way. 

"  It  seems  to  sorty  clear  up  my  head,"  he  often  re- 
marked, **  and  then  it  stays  clear  for  twenty-four 
hours.     It's  kind  o*  like  windin'  up  a  watch." 

These  early  down-town  visits  often  enabled  him  to 
bring  to  the  tidy  and  quiet  boarding-house  of  Mrs. 
O'Slaughtery  some  fresh  bits  of  local  news  in  advance 
of  the  morning  journals.  His  round,  red  face  and 
sparkling  eyes  had  a  way  upon  such  occasions  of  sup- 
plementing to  perfection  the  glibness  of  his  tongue  and 
the  picturesqueness  of  his  vocabulary. 

"  The  town's  in  mournin',  the  flag  on  the  court-house 
steeple  is  at  half-mast,  tickets  to  the  hangin'  are 
quoted  at  nominal  prices,  with  no  buyers,  the  jail  is 
disconsolate,  the  gallus  is  a  forlorn  widder,"  he  cried 


244  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

as  he  beamed  in  upon  the  breakfast  room,  just  as  the 
rest  of  the  boarders  had  got  fairly  seated.  "  Bet  you 
can't  guess  what's  happened." 

"  The  la,  Misther  Downs,  I  can  guess  the  first 
toime  ;  I'll  wager  me  coffee-pot  against  a  pair  of  foine 
gloves,"  said  the  landlady,  pausing  to  balance  the 
shining  silver  urn  in  her  plump  hand. 

**  Done !  Now,  what's  happened  ? "  demanded 
Downs  eagerly. 

"Ye've  been  takin'  just  a  drop  more  whisky  'an 
common,  that's  all,  to  be  sure,  Misther  Downs." 

The  boarders  promptly  voted  that  Mrs.  O'Slaugh- 
tery  had  won  the  gloves,  against  which  the  auction* 
eer  stoutly  but  ineffectually  protested. 

**  Won't  you  hear  a  feller  explain?"  he  asked. 
"  I  have  got  news  and  just  lots  of  it.  Why  the  town's 
a-b'ilin'  like  a  soda-water  fountain,  jest  a-sizzlin'  as 
it  were." 

*'  But  ye'll  not  forget  that  the  number  of  the  gloves 
is  six  an'  a  half,  an'  the  stoile  six-button  kid,  medium 
tan  color,  sir." 

*•  Possibly  you  folks  don't  want  to  hear  the  news 
anyhow — you'd  rather  joke  along  an'  wait  for  the 
newspapers.  Of  course  I  don't  care  to  force  the 
statement  onto  you."  Downs  took  his  seat  at  the 
table,  with  a  look  as  near  that  of  offended  dignity  as 
his  florid,  genial  face  could  assume. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Misther  Downs,  if  the  gloves  are  too 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  245 

expinsive,  don't  think  of  'em,  plase,  but  do  till — tell  us 
the  news,  please,"  said  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  very  gently, 
and  in  her  most  insinuating  tone. 

Downs  brightened. 

"  Well,  the  town's  like  a  bumblebee's  nest  after  a 
boy's  been  there  ;  you  never  heard  sich  a-hummin'  and 
a-stirrin'.  Last  night,  sometime,  while  the  jailer  was 
asleep  an'  dreamin'  of  the  delights  of  the  comin'  execu- 
tion, that  boy  Hempstead  got  out  an'  jest  nat'rally 
skipped." 

*'  Is  he  gone  ?  Did  he  escape  entirely,  are  you  sure  ?  " 
demanded  Milford,  his  lips  pale  and  his  whole  face 
expressive  of  intense  feeling. 

"  You're  mighty  right,"  said  Downs ;  "  he's  clear  gone ; 
didn't  leave  a  trace  or  a  sign.  His  cell  was  unlocked 
and  him  gone,  and  that's  all  there  is  of  it." 

Milford  made  no  response,  but  sat  overcome  with  a 
rush  of  feeling  that  seemed  to  have  swept  a  great  load 
from  his  heart. 

**  Your  beautiful  speech  has  been  cheated  out  of  its 
result,  Mr.  Milford,"  said  Downs,  after  the  ejacula- 
tions and  hasty  comments  had  flashed  around  the 
table.     ''  It  looks  like  a  shame." 

*'  I'm  sure  Misther  Milford  needn't  care  at  all,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  O'Slaughtery ;  ''  he's  done  his  duty  an' 
got  his  pay.  Let  the  poor  unfortunate  lad  go,  an' 
good  luck  to  'm." 

Milford  ate   very  little  breakfast ;  he   was  too    im- 


246  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

patient  to  be  down  in  the  street,  where  he  could  hear 
all  and  get  confirmation  of  this  news.  As  he  walked 
toward  his  office  he  found  himself  a  little  nervous  for 
fear  that  it  might  turn  out  a  mere  sensation,  caused 
by  some  slight  attempt  at  escape  by  the  prisoner.  It 
seemed  too  strangely  good  to  be  true,  that  Marian 
Wilton's  self-condemnation  should  be  ended  so  soon. 
Ah,  how  this  will  relieve  her,  he  thought ;  for  since  the 
drive  by  the  river  he  had  been  conscious  of  how  keenly 
she  would  suffer  under  the  belief  that  she  had  been  an 
agent  in  fixing  the  fate  of  young  Hempstead.  This 
reflection  had  added  a  deeper  color  to  the  whole 
trouble.  He  could  not  bear  that  she  should  be  loaded 
with  even  an  imaginary  part  of  the  responsibility 
which  had  so  nagged  at  his  conscience. 

Downs  had  scarcely  exaggerated  the  excitement  in 
the  streets  of  Bankersville,  as  Milford  soon  discovered. 
It  seems  strange  to  have  to  record  the  fact  that  many 
persons  behaved  as  though  they  had  been  cheated  or 
had  had  some  impending  pleasure  snatched  away  when 
it  was  ready  to  fall  upon  them.  Men  raved  and  swore 
or  delivered  themselves  of  sudden  rancor  by  heaping 
abuse  upon  the  head  of  the  jailer. 

Cool-minded  persons,  after  giving  the  facts  and  sur- 
roundings some  careful  thought,  confessed  that  it  did 
look  as  if  there  might  have  been  bribery  and  conniv- 
ance, but  really  there  was  not  a  breath  of  legal  evi- 
dence to  that  effect ;  and  as  the  jailer  had  always  been 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  247 

considered  a  man  of  good  character,  the  suspicion  was 
throttled  in  its  earliest  stage,  so  far  as  any  public  ex- 
pression went. 

The  jailer's  story  was  not  impossible  in  its  terms, 
but  there  was  an  air  of  something  unauthentic,  rather 
than  improbable,  in  it.  Very  few  persons  believed 
what  he  said,  if  believing  excludes  doubt,  but  nobody 
was  willing  to  take  the  responsibility  of  attempting  to 
develop  to  its  highest  power  the  suspicion  he  felt,  or, 
in  other  words,  to  begin  an  investigation. 

The  sheriff  used  every  means  in  his  power  to  recap- 
ture the  prisoner,  but  he  could  not  discover  even  the 
faintest  trace  of  his  course.  The  flight  had  been  as 
trackless  as  if  it  had  been  made  through  the  upper  air. 

Under  all  the  circumstances,  Hempstead's  escape 
could  not  fail  to  make  a  strange  impression  on  Marian 
Wilton's  mind,  especially  when  the  rumor  came  to  her 
ears  of  a  suspicion  that  the  jailer  had  been  bribed. 
Here  was  a  chapter  added  to  her  experience  as  un- 
expected as  it  was  contradictory  in  its  effects.  With 
the  quick  insight  of  a  woman,  she  at  once  saw  that 
Lawson,  prompted  by  what  she  had  said  to  him,  had 
used  some  undue  influence  to  free  Hempstead.  Nor 
did  her  vision  stop  at  this,  for  a  woman  always  under- 
stands a  man  who  loves  her.  She  swiftly  compre- 
hended that  he  probably  had  felt  the  value  his  act 
might  have  in  connection  with  his  suit  for  her  hand. 
She  blushed  with  humiliation  and  self-contempt  at  the 


248  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

thought.  Had  he  really  understood  her  to  mean  that 
she  wished  a  jail  delivery?  Could  it  be  possible  that 
she  was  now  an  accessory  to  a  crime  in  the  eyes  of 
Chester  Lawson  ?  There  was  just  enough  of  proba- 
bihty  supporting  her  suspicion  to  make  her  quite 
miserable ;  and  yet  whenever  she  realized  that  the 
dreadful  gallows,  whose  image  had  remained  in  her 
mind  ever  since  she  saw  it,  was  cheated  of  its  victim, 
it  thrilled  her  with  an  exquisite  pleasure.  She  felt 
quite  willing  to  bear  almost  any  thing  for  the  sake  of 
knowing  that  Milford  would  be  delivered  from  the 
gloomly  misgivings  into  which  his  fierce  and  terrible 
prosecution  of  Hempstead  had  cast  him,  but  this  could 
scarcely  blunt  the  pang  she  felt  at  the  possibility  of 
her  unguarded  words  having  influenced  Lawson  to 
commit  an  actual  crime.  She  was  aware  that  she  pos- 
sessed a  stronger  control  over  the  lover  she  did  not 
love  than  over  the  one  she  did  love,  a  secret  discov- 
ered by  many  a  woman,  and  it  humiliated  her  to  feel 
that  she  had  exerted,  even  inadvertently,  a  power 
which,  according  to  every  dictate  of  delicacy  and 
right,  should  have  been  left  unused  forever. 

Miss  Crabb  rushed  in  to  see  her,  as  she  always  did 
when  there  was  a  sensation  in  Bankersville.  The 
elements  of  the  volatile  editor  and  impatient  author 
were  not  more  notably  developed  in  Miss  Crabb  than 
was  that  more  womanly  characteristic,  the  love  of 
gossip.     She  was  an  overwhelming  talker,  and  finding 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  249 

Marian  a  good  listener,  she  always  came  to  the  Wilton 
home  heavily  burdened  with  something  to  say.  Her 
influence  was  good,  perhaps ;  for,  no  matter  how  dis- 
couraged she  chanced  to  be,  she  was  never  ill-natured, 
and  if  she  now  and  then  grew  hysterical,  it  was  hysteria 
of  a  light  and  laughing  sort. 

On  this  occasion  Miss  Crabb  was  in  ecstacies.  She 
did  not  know  which  contributed  most  to  her  delight  : 
the  fact  that  Hempstead  had  escaped  or  the  discomfit- 
ure of  the  Scar  editor  on  account  of  losing  the  oppor- 
tunity to  publish  a  blood-curdling  description  of  the 
execution. 

"  I  do  think  the  whole  thing  is  a  special  providence, 
Marian,  a  divine  interposition  in  behalf  of  our  sweet 
little  city,"  she  remarked  with  great  warmth  and  quite 
amazing  fluency.  *'  Think  of  the  Boston  of  Indiana — 
the  Athens  of  the  West — the  Paris  of  the  Wabash, 
being  the  scene  of  a  vulgar,  brutal  execution  by  the 
gibbet !  I'm  just  actually  overjoyed — I  can't  help  it. 
Talk  about  justice  and  the  vindication  of  the  law, 
why,  nothing  could  be  more  demoralizing  than  such 
a  scene  as  that  would  have  been  !  I  was  just  thinking 
last  night  that  if  I  could  do  it  I  would  go  and  let 
that  boy  out.  Oh,  you  ought  to  see  that  Scar  man's 
face  !  It  looks  a  yard  long.  If  his  wife  had  died  he 
wouldn't  have  taken  it  half  so  hard.  It  just  does  me 
good." 

*'  But  shouldn't  you  expect  that  the  prisoner  would 


250  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

be  recaptured  ? — you  don't  think  he  can  escape  wholly, 
do  you  ?  "  asked  Marian. 

**  Oh,  he's  gone,  I  guess ;  the  sheriff  is  thoroughly 
bewildered,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  clew  whatever  to 
the  direction  he  took.  He's  running  for  his  life,  re- 
member, and  he'll  run  his  best." 

"  I  hope  he  will,"  said  Marian,  with  a  poor  smile  ;  "  it 
would  be  horrible  if  they  should  retake  him." 

**  Yes,  it  would  ;  but  I  don't  think  they  will,  he's  got 
too  great  a  start,"  rejoined  Miss  Crabb,  unfolding  a 
sheet  of  writing-paper.  "  To  change  the  subject,"  she 
went  on,  after  a  little  pause  ;  "  I  want  to  read  you  my 
latest  poem.  It  seems  good  to  me  and  I  should  like 
your  candid  opinion  of  it ;  you  have  such  exquisite  taste 
and  I'm  so  apt  to  be  partial  and  prejudiced  when  con- 
sidering my  own  things.     May  I  read  it  ?  " 

Marian  assented  cordially  enough,  though  just  then 
she  was  in  no  mood  for  poetry. 

"  It's  short,"  apologized  the  editor,  "and  that  is  in 
its  favor,  to  begin  with ;  moreover,  I  think  it  has  a 
little  bit  of  originality  in  it." 

She  read  : 

"  Can  any  good  song  come  out  of  the  West  ? 

Has  the  bard  of  the  fields  and  the  prairies  been  born  ? 
Oh,  who  sings  the  wheat  ?  and  who  has  expressed 
The  music  of  grass  and  the  rapture  of  corn  ? 

"  Is  the  lyrist  of  Nature  a  lad  at  his  plow, 

With  his  feet  brown  and  bare  and  his  straw  hat  all  torn  ? 
Or  is  it  the  bonny  girl  milking  her  cow 

Shall  trill  us  the  score  of  the  grass  and  the  corn  ? 


A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  251 

**  Ah,  no  matter  who  sings  the  song,  so  he  be 
Of  the  West,  to  the  Hfe  of  a  Westerner  born  ; 
A  maid,  or  a  lad,  or  a  man  strong  and  free 
As  the  soul  of  the  grass  or  the  spirit  of  corn  !  " 

"  I  don't  just  like  that  closing  phrase,"  Miss  Crabb 
remarked  byway  of  comment ;  ''  it's  good  ;  it's  just  what 
I  want  to  say,  but  I'm  afraid  the  humorists  will  take  it 
up,  and  if  they  do,  just  imagine  what  they'll  make  of 
it !  Spirit  of  corn — corn-juice — essence  of  corn — whis- 
ky— ugh  !  These  humorists  have  grown  to  be  a  ter- 
ror— all  but  Burdette,  he's  always  kind — they  are  like 
hawks,  they  pounce  on  you  unaware  and  catch  you 
just  when  you're  not  expecting  it.  Would  you  let  it 
alone  so,  if  you  were  I  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  care  for  them.  It  seems  very  pretty 
to  me — I  like  it,"  said  Marian,  frankly.  **  It  seems 
fresh  and  musical." 

"  Do  you  know  what  suggested  it  ?  "  asked  Miss  Crabb ; 
and  then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  continued 
briskly :  ''  It  was  something  Mrs.  Goodword  said  the 
other  evening  in  her  sermon,  something  about  the 
genius  of  the  West  being  as  free  as  the  grass  on  the 
prairies  and  the  corn  in  the  fields.  I  came  away  with 
the  thought  ringing  through  my  mind  and  it  worried 
me  till  I  wrote  it." 

"I  haven't  been  at  any  of  Mrs.  Goodword's  m.eet- 
ings,"  said  Marian,  *'  but  I  am  going  this  evening.  Are 
they  interesting  ?     Is  she  a  person  of  any  ability  ?  " 


252  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  Yes  and  no,"  responded  the  editor,  knitting  her 
brows  and  drawing  down  the  corners  of  her  large,  flexi- 
ble mouth  ;  "  she's  sensational  and  crude,  but  then  she 
has  a  peculiar  fervor  that  is  contagious  or  something — 
it  affects  you  in  spite  of  yourself.  I  don't  just  ap- 
prove of  her,  and  yet  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  say 
why.  She's  not  exactly  vulgar — her  voice  is  honest 
and  sweet,  her  eyes  clear  and  earnest,  she  has  a 
fine  presence,  and  all  that ;  still  I  find  a  protest 
against  her  in  my  heart  or  mind  somewhere,  as 
if  she  were  doing  me  some  indirect  and  subtle 
injustice,  or  something.  I  don't  know  just  how  to 
express  it." 

"You  are  prejudiced  against  women-orators,  per- 
haps," suggested  Marian. 

"  No,  I  am  not ;  I  have  thought  of  lecturing  myself, 
or  reading  my  poems.  No,  it's  not  any  prejudice.  It 
seems  to  lie  deeper.  I've  thought  of  it  a  good  deal. 
Sometimes  I  think  it's  the  way  she  swings  wide  her 
arms  and  leans  backward  when  she  is  saying  something 
she  wishes  every  body  to  hear,  and  then  again  I  suspect 
that  it's  the  long  strides  she  makes  when  she  walks  to 
and  fro  on  the  platform.  It's  as  if  I  approved  of  her 
in  theory,  but  recoiled  from  her — very  gently  and 
vaguely — in  practice." 

**  It  is  probably  one  of  those  inexplicable  personal 
dislikes,"  said  Marian,  growing  a  little  interested ;  "you 
know  we  have  them  sometimes  so  obscurely  developed 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  253 

that  we  can  not  understand  their  origin.  Often  they 
are  unjust,  too." 

"  No,  but  I  like  Mrs.  Goodword  personally ;  she  has 
been  in  the  office  frequently  and  she's  charming.  No, 
the  recoil  is  generated  on  the  platform — in  the  pulpit. 
You  must  go  and  hear  her ;  I  think  you'll  feel  just  as  I 
do  about  it." 

Miss  Crabb  rose  to  go.  Marian  followed  her  to  the 
gate  to  say,  at  last : 

"  If  you  hear— if  anything  new  happens — if  you  get 
any  further  word  about  Hempstead,  let  me  know, 
won't  you?  It  seems  so  strange  that  he  could 
escape." 

*'A11  right,  I'll  keep  you  posted,"  responded  the 
editor;  "but  don't  forget  Mrs.  Goodword's  meeting." 

Lawson  called  that  evening  and  walked  with  Marian 
to  the  church,  which  was  but  two  squares  distant  from 
the  house.  She  would  have  avoided  him  if  it  had 
been  possible  without  rudeness,  for  just  then  he  was 
of  all  the  world  the  one  person  she  could  not  meet  and 
feel  at  peace  with  her  conscience.  Not  that  she  admit- 
ted any  guilt,  on  her  part,  in  Lawson's  crime,  if  he  had 
really  committed  one — the  qualms  that  beset  her 
reached  back  to  the  fact  that  she  had  tacitly  commis- 
sioned him  to  make  some  effort,  right  or  wrong, 
for  her  sake.  He  would  feel  that  she  could  not 
help  recognizing  the  obligation  he  had  placed  her 
under. 


254  A   BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

He  was  in  a  very  cheerful  mood,  and  much  to  her 
relief,  talked  in  a  light  way,  without  alluding  to  the  sub- 
ject she  dreaded. 

They  arrived  at  the  church  rather  early,  but  this 
gave  them  an  opportunity  to  choose  good  seats  from 
which  they  could  have  a  full  view  of  the  proceedings. 
Marian  felt  that  she  had  not  come  out  of  any  better 
motive  than  a  species  of  curiosity — "  pious  investiga- 
tion," Lawson  called  it. 

Mrs.  Goodword  came  in  after  the  auditorium  had 
been  crowded  for  sometime.  A  wide  rustle,  amount- 
ing almost  to  applause,  greeted  her  appearance.  She 
went  directly  to  the  platform  upon  which  the  pulpit 
stood,  and  as  she  ascended  the  two  or  three  steps  she 
began  singing  an  "exhilarating  hymn  in  a  voice  as 
rich  as  gold,"  as  the  newspapers  reported  next  morn- 
ing. 

"  I  don't  like  her  looks,"  said  Lawson  in  a  low  tone. 
"  She  has  a  man-like  manner  which  I'd  call  a  swagger, 
if  I  dared,  and  her  voice  suggests  a  straining  for  effect ; 
it's  a  poor  business  for  a  woman  at  best." 

"You  are  hard  on  her — hard  on  us  all,  Mr.  Lawson," 
remarked  Marian. 

Lawson  was  about  to  speak  again  when  McGinnis, 
elbowing  and  zig-zagging  his  way  along,  reached  the 
back  of  the  young  man's  seat  and  leaning  over  whis- 
pered in  his  ear. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Lawson  instantly,  turning  upon 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  255 

Marian  a  suddenly  excited  face.  "  Excuse,  me  please  ; 
a  little  matter  of  urgent  business.  I  may  not  be  able 
to  return." 

"  Oh,  pray  don't  think  of  me,  I  shall  get  on  well 
enough,"  she  responded.  "  I  hope  you  have  no  bad 
news?"  she  involuntarily  added,  thinking  of  Hemp- 
stead. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  smiling  and  recovering  his  com- 
posure, "  not  so  very  bad.  It  could  be  a  good  deal 
worse." 

He  went  away  wondering  why  she  had  asked  the 
question ;  he  was  scarcely  out  of  sight  when  Milford 
came  and  begged  Marian's  permission  to  sit  in  the 
vacant  seat  beside  her.  This  was  while  the  house 
seemed  fairly  to  rock  under  the  singing  now  taken  up 
by  hundreds  of  voices. 

At  least  half  the  congregation  consisted  of  people 
from  the  country,  some  of  whom  had  come  many 
miles  to  attend  the  great  revival. 

Ranged  in  a  semicircle  before  the  pulpit  were  the 
anxious  seats,  now  fast  filling  with  seekers  after  spir- 
itual comfort. 

At  the  end  of  the  song  Mrs.  Goodword  lifted  her 
hand  and  prayed  in  a  loud,  resonant,  almost  masculine 
voice.  Marian  thought  of  what  Miss  Crabb  had  said, 
and  there  crept  into  her  consciousness  a  shadowy  sense 
of  shame,  or  something  akin  to  it  ;  it  was  as  if  she 
herself  stood  on  the  platform  and  prayed  aloud,  while 


2S0  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

all  the  people  kneeled  or  gazed.  She  could  not  keep 
from  casting  a  glance  at  Milford.  There  was  a  look 
on  his  face  which  would  have  been  pity  if  it  had  been 
less  cold.  She  understood  it.  He  shared  Lawson's 
opinion  of  the  spectacle. 

When  Mrs.  Goodword  began  to  address  the  congre- 
gation Marian  tried  to  compose  herself  and  listen,  but 
in  spite  of  all  she  could  do  she  let  her  mind  wander. 
How  sweetly  arose  in  her  memory  a  vision  of  the  first 
part  of  the  quiet  drive  with  Milford  the  other  morn- 
ing !  She  wondered  if  it  could  be  as  precious  to  him 
as  it  was  to  her. 

The  preacher  began  to  fling  out  her  arms  and  to 
pour  forth  a  flood  of  exhortation,  her  voice  rising  and 
falling  in  strong  undulations  of  persuasive,  touchingly 
musical  appeal.  Then  the  mourners  began  to  be 
heard  crying  out,  and  here  and  there  in  the  crowd  a 
voice  shouted  "Amen"  or  "Thank  the  Lord,"  while 
the  whole  mass  seemed  to  be  swaying  to  the  palpita- 
tions of  the  exhortation.  Marian  gazed  fixedly  at  the 
tall,  strong  figure  of  the  enthusiastic  speaker,  watched 
her  face,  her  excited  gestures,  her  ungraceful  attitudes, 
with  a  consciousness  of  objection  in  her  heart  some- 
where, to  being  a  part,  even  in  so  slight  a  degree,  of 
this  strange  exhibition. 

Presently  five  young  men  went  upon  the  platform, 
and  ranging  themselves  in  a  row,  arm  in  arm,  and 
facing  the  audience,  sang  the  Nmety  and  Nine  with 


A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  257 

great  power.  How  almost  weirdly  beseeching  Mrs. 
Goodword's  voice  now  sounded  in  the  midst  of  that 
musical  din  !  She  grew  ecstatic  in  gesture  and  expres- 
sion, and  strode  back  and  forth  in  front  of  the  row  of 
singers,  calling  loudly  and  fervently  on  sinners  to 
repent  before  it  should  be  everlastingly  too  late. 

"  Do  you  care  very  much  about  this  sort  of  thing?" 
Milford  inquired  suddenly,  as  the  noise,  doubled  and 
trebled  by  added  voices,  became  next  to  deafening. 
Many  people  were  standing  in  the  seats  gazing  over 
the  heads  of  others  in  front  of  them. 

"Do  you  care  for  this?  does  it  interest  you  a  great 
deal?"  Milford  added. 

**  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  think  it  is  strange, 
almost  weird." 

Some  one  began  to  shout — it  was  a  thin,  sharp, 
quavering  voice.     Milford  recognized  it  at  once. 

How  well  he  remembered  its  appeal  to  him,  once 
upon  a  time,  before  young  Hempstead's  trial.  He 
looked  and  saw,  what  the  cry  had  led  him  to  expect,  a 
woman  with  upturned  face  and  out-stretched  arms, 
frantically  exhilarated  with  the  draught  of  excitement 
imbibed  from  the  exhortation,  the  singing  and  the 
praying.  It  was  poor  old  Mrs.  Hempstead,  but  the 
voice  was  more  than  hers,  it  seemed  to,  Milford — a 
voice  that  filled  the  universe  and  suggested  an 
infinitude  of  strange  shadowy  doubts.  He  was  an 
orthodox  Presbyterian,  and  he  held  in  highest  venera- 


258  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

tion  all  the  ordinances  and  all  the  sacred  traditions  of 
his  church,  and  yet  he  was  liberal,  he  thought,  to  a 
degree  which  would  keep  undue  prejudice  out  of  his 
mind  in  the  presence  of  any  advanced  methods  of 
Christian  work.  Mrs.  Goodword's  peculiar  eloquence 
and  her  strange  mesmeric  effect  upon  those  weaker 
than  she,  suggested  a  fascination  too  subtle  and  secret 
to  be  felt  as  wholly  good,  he  feared  ;  then  her  voice ; 
the  very  voice  it  was  of  one  who  seeks  to  fascinate 
rather  than  to  convince,  to  frighten  rather  than  to  per- 
suade. He  watched  the  trembling,  pallid  subjects  of 
her  influence,  as  they  writhed  under  the  ecstatic  tor- 
ture she  inflicted,  and  he  dared  not  judge  whether  it 
was  really  the  spirit  of  Christ  or  the  spirit  of  ambitious 
experiment  he  saw  at  work.  All  the  time  the  voice  of 
Mrs.  Hempstead  prevailed  over  the  strange  clamor 
of  the  meeting : — "  Praise  the  Lord  !  Glory,  glory, 
glory!  "it  cried,  its  singular  tone  vibrating  through 
the  din  with  thrilling  distinctness.  "Glory!  Oh, 
glory,  hallelujah  !  I  prayed  an*  my  prayer  was  heard, 
my  boy  is  safe,  the  good  Lord  delivered  him  from 
death!  Glory,  glory!  Oh,  I  will  praise  Him,  praise 
Him,  all  my  life-time !  I  am  happy  forever  and  for- 
ever!    Glory,  glory,  glory! "  she  went  on. 

"  Let  us  go  home,"  said  Milford,  "  this  is  no  place 
for  you,  Marian." 

*'  Oh,  I  prayed  for  my  poor  boy !  I  prayed  the  Lord 
to  open  the  jail  an*  let  him  out,  an'  He  done  it.  He 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  259 

done  it,  blessed  forever  be  His  name!"  rang  out  the 
thin,  ecstatic  cry  again. 

''  Who  is  that  ?  Who— that  is— is  that  his  mother  ?  " 
exclaimed  Marian,  as  she  caught  the  strange  words. 

"  Yes ;  she  is  over-wrought,  she  should  be  taken 
away,"  said  Milford.     "Come,  Marian,  come  with  me." 

She  rose  and  took  his  arm.  No  one  noticed  them 
as  they  made  their  way  out  of  the  crowd  and  clamor 
into  the  sweet,  cool  night.  Slowly  the  noise  softened 
down  as  they  walked  toward  her  home.  The  blessing 
of  a  cloudless  sky,  with  its  pale  moon  and  silver  stars, 
hovered  over  the  little  city.  The  blessing  of  a  deep 
peace  crept  into  the  hearts  of  the  two,  as  the  last  mur- 
mur of  the  revival  died  out.  They  reached  the  gate, 
and  then  as  if  recollecting  that  they  had  scarcely 
spoken  on  the  way,  they  looked  at  each  other  and 
smiled.  He  opened  the  gate  and  let  her  go  through, 
but  in  some  way  he  caught  her  hand,  so  that  she  must 
needs  turn  round  and  smile  at  him  again  over  the  little 
wicker-work  barrier. 

"After  all,  Marian,"  he  murmured,  with  a  touch  of 
man's  selfishness  and  conceit  in  his  voice,  "  after  all,  a 
woman  can  not  be  an  orator  in  the  noblest  degree." 

"  All  women  can  not  be  orators,"  she  quickly 
responded,  "  nor  can  all  men.  Few  are  chosen,  even 
if  many  are  called.  You  must  not  take  one  or  two 
instances  to  prove  a  rule." 

"  Oh,  a  woman    is    always    a    woman,"    he    gently 


26o  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

insisted,  still  holding  her  firm,  strong  little  hand  across 
the  gate ;  *'  and  there  is  something  she  loses  under  a 
test  like  that — that  subtle  charm,  that  elect,  exclusive 
grace  of  body  and  soul,  worshiped,  adored  by  all 
good  men — is  it  not  so  ?  "  She  tried  to  release  her- 
self. He  did  not  let  her  go,  taking  quick  advantage 
of  her  effort  by  holding    her  hand  all  the  faster. 

*'  In  your  own  heart,  Marian,  you  have  already 
answered  my  question,"  he  gravely  said,  leaning  far 
over  the  gate.  "  Women  are  good  for  all  that  home 
and  love  can  rightfully  mean  or  claim." 

'•  I'd  better  go  in,  then,  for  this  night  air  isn't  exactly 
home,"  she  replied,  giving  another  fruitless  pull  to 
release  the  hand  he  held  so  close. 

"  But  it's  the  atmosphere  of  love,  Marian,  isn't  it? — 
you  love  me,  don't  you  ?     Say  yes,  say  you  do " 

He  reached  forth  his  other  hand  and  drew  h«r  to 
him,  despite  her  silent  little  struggle,  and  there  in  the 
sky  light,  and  star  light,  and  heaven  light  he  did  a* 
lovers  have  done  ever  since  front  gates  were  invented 
kissed  her  good  night,  and  good  morning,  and  good 
always,  and  ever. 


XVIII. 

As  Milford  walked  back  to  his  room,  filled  with 
the  deep  strange  joy  of  love,  he  passed  by 
the  large  French-glass  window  of  McGinnis's  office. 
Within  he  saw  the  banker  and  Lawson  sitting  with 
their  heads  close  together,  evidently  in  earnest  con- 
sultation. He  had  been  suspecting  lately  that  finan- 
cial affairs  were  not  just  as  Lawson  had  planned 
for  them  to  be,  and  now  the  thought  flashed  across  his 
mind  that  probably  the  frequent  fluctuations  in  the 
Chicago  market  lately  had  brought  calamity  to  the  two 
great  Bankersville  speculators.  Indeed,  to  his  imagi- 
nation there  was  something  in  the  attitudes  and  the 
expression  of  the  men  suggestive  of  great  mental  strain, 
as  if  they  were  grappling  with  some  stupendous 
threat  of  chance.  It  was  only  a  glimpse  through  the 
clear  glass  between  heavy  curtains,  a  glimpse  of  rather 
gaudy  upholstery  and  a  rich  carpet,  a  covered  walnut 
desk,  and  the  two  men — the  thin,  nervous  face  of 
McGinnis,  pale  and  set,  the  heavy  features  of  Lawson, 
red  and  almost  stolid,  but  it  was  strangely  expressive 
of  evil  of  some  sort,  as  Milford's  mind  chanced  to 
interpret  it. 


262  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

He  went  up  into  his  own  office  to  have  a  smoke  and 
dream  awhile  before  retiring  for  the  night.  His 
thoughts  did  not  dwell  long  on  McGinnis  and  Lawson ; 
they  vibrated  between  the  tender  joy  of  knowing  that 
Marian  loved  him  and  the  bright  future  that  his  book's 
great  success  was  promising  to  him.  It  was  but  natural 
that  he  should  look  forward  now  with  a  color  of  the  rose 
clinging  to  everything  his  vision  could  reach  ;  but  the 
provincial  person,  the  Westerner,  say,  or  the  Southerner 
and  especially  the  provincial  artist,  novelist,  or  poet,  is 
apt  to  use  his  imagination  or,  perhaps,  his  fancy  in 
everything,  as  if  his  isolated,  cramped  and  realistic  life, 
calling  for  some  relief,  could  find  unlimited  delight  in  a 
strained  idealism,  and  Milford  felt  possibilities  in  his 
coming  career  far  greater  than  any  experienced  littera- 
teur of  Boston  or  New  York  would  have  thought  it 
advisable  to  expect.  He  had  more  courage  and  more 
confidence,  no  doubt,  for  the  very  reason  that  the  busi- 
ness aspect  of  his  literary  ventures  troubled  him  little. 
What  with  the  money  he  would  soon  get  from  the 
pine  lands  of  his  faf.her's  estate  and  a  small  sum  laid 
up  from  his  legal  earnings,  he  felt  that  he  might  safely 
marry  Marian  and  begin  a  new  life  with  every  prospect 
of  happiness.  Here  is  the  provincial's  advantage  over 
the  metropolitan — freedom  from  the  restraint  of  social 
necessity  as  well  as  exemption  from  the  exactions  of  a 
time-serving  taste — immunities  dear  to  creative  genius. 
Burns   and  Jasmin  and    Theocritus  and  Sappho   and 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  263 

Mistral  are  types,  in  a  certain  degree,  by  which  the 
provincial  tendencies  of  literary  ambition  may  be 
measured,  just  as  Millet  is  a  standard  of  the  stature  of 
provincial  art :  aspiration  in  its  healthiest  form.  Every- 
where provincial  life  has,  within  certain  limitation 
of  variation,  the  same  influence  upon  the  human  mind 
and  soul.  Who  but  the  provincial  gives  himself  up 
wholly  to  his  imagination  and  dwells  in  an  ideal  world? 
Who  but  the  provincial  comes  to  verily  believe  that 
his  art,  or  his  love,  or  his  religion  is  the  whole  of  life  } 
Who  but  the  provincial  regards  fame  as  something 
supremely  precious,  not  for  the  power  of  it,  not  for  its 
glory  in  the  vulgar  and  worldly  view,  but  for  rhe  high, 
serene  ecstasy  it  brings  to  the  soul  ?  Who  but  the 
provincial  wraps  himself  in  dreams,  as  in  a  cocoon, 
when  the  mood  is  on,  and  lives  the  very  life  of 
romance  ?  It  is  all  as  it  should  be.  Life  in  the  great 
cities,  where  love  of  culture  takes  the  place  of  more 
subtle  aspiration  and  where  the  aspects  of  haman 
nature  are  so  varied  and  so  near  the  observer's  eye  that 
there  is  no  perspective,  no  color,  naturally  develops  a 
microscopic  vision  and  generates  an  analytical  spirit, 
like  that  of  Balzac  and  his  imitators,  in  literature  and 
art.  But  out  in  the  provinces,  or  prairies,  which  means 
the  same,  where  space  is  wide  and  instances  are  few  in 
every  line  of  experience,  romance,  in  all  its  forms, 
assaults  the  imagination  and  takes  it  captive.  It  is  the 
provincial  who  can  lend  his  whole  being  to  a  fancy  and 


264  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

throw  into  a  dream  the  substance  as  well  as  the  essence 
of  his  life.  Milford  was  happy,  and  the  future  seemed 
to  him  a  vast  sphere  of  serene  triumph.  He  was  deep 
in  his  reverie  when  Lawson  entered,  but  he  looked  up 
immediately,  wondering  what  had  brought  his  partner 
in  at  such  an  hour,  for  Lawson  had  not  been  in  the 
office  much  of  late. 

If  Milford  expected  to  see  some  mark  of  excitement 
in  Lawson's  face  he  was  disappointed,  for  the  young 
man  was  smiling  cheerfully  and  began  whistling  a 
lively  snatch  from  one  of  the  revival  tunes.  These 
tunes,  indeed,  were  on  every  body's  lips. 

"  Hello,"  he  exclaimed,  taking  a  chair  near  Milford ; 
"give  me  a  cigar;  seeing  you  smoking  so  luxuriously 
makes  me  hungry  for  one.  WhereVe  you  been  ?  I 
saw  no  light  in  here  when  I  passed  sometime  ago." 

"  I  went  to  the  Goodword  meeting,"  said  Milford, 
producing  his  cigar-case.  "  I  dropped  in  here  to  rest 
after  the  excitement." 

"  I  went,  but  had  to  come  away  on  account  of  a  mat- 
ter of  business  with  McGinnis,"  remarked  Lawson, 
selecting  a  cigar.  "That  woman  is  a  palpable  fraud,  a 
mere  adventuress,  I'll  bet  my  head  on  it.  She  should 
be  suppressed.  Think  of  a  fellow's  mother  or  wife  or 
sister  going  on  like  that.     Bah  !  " 

"  She  has  power,  I  should  say,"  Milford  rejoined. 
*'  I  never  have  seen  another  audience  so  stirred." 

"Not   much  real   power;  it's   mostly  novelty;  the 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE,  265 

effect  of  seeing  a  woman  up  there,  before  a  vast  crowd 
of  people,  bawling  about  heaven  and  hell,  is  enough 
to  stir  a  weak  person's  blood ;  and  most  persons  are 
weak,  you  know.  I  call  it  obtaining  religion  under 
false  pretense,  or  rather  under  duress,  to  get  it  by 
means  of  such  a  holy  terror  of  exhortation,  of  howling 
mourners,  of  furious  singers  and  such  a  chorus  of  hand- 
clappers  abetted  by  that  woman's  blood-curdling  hell- 
pictures.  It's  a  wonder  that  some  of  those  excited 
wretches  don't  go  hopelessly  insane — raving  crazy." 

"They  are  crazy  for  the  time  they  are  under  the 
spell  of  her  personal  influence,  I  suppose,"  said  Mil- 
ford. 

''  Yes,  it's  something  of  the  sort.  All  this  great 
power  of  oratory  is  mere  animal  force — physical 
charm." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Milford. 

"  Well,  it's  so,  whether  you  think  so  or  not.  It's  so 
with  actors,  orators,  lecturers  and  singers.  Don't  you 
know  that  Litta,  our  western  prima  donna,  had  the 
charmingest  voice  that  the  world  ever  heard  ?  And  yet, 
poor  girl,  she  could  not  fairly  succeed  because  she  was 
not  beautiful.  Now  Mrs.  Goodword  is  a  magnificent 
animal,  a  little  coarse,  but  that's  all  the  better  on  the 
platform,  with  a  voice  like  a  silver  calliope  and  a  man- 
ner crudely  but  tellingly  artistic ;  and  it's  no  secret  to 
me  how  she  sets  the  country  wild  wherever  she 
goes." 


266  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

**Litta  was  beautiful  beside  a  creature  like  that  you 
portray,  but  I  do  not  think  you  do  Mrs.  Goodword 
justice,"  said  Milford.  "  Her  subject  is  a  grand  one 
and  she  evidently  feels  the  importance  of  her  work — 
she  is  sincere,  and  sincerity  is  the  secret  of  personal 
force." 

"  Milford,  you  know  better,"  exclaimed  Lawson  with 
a  laugh ;  "  take  your  own  experience.  Were  you  wholly 
sincere  in  your  terrible,  almost  brutal  speech  against 
young  Hempstead  ?  I  never  have  heard  more  effective 
oratory  than  that  was,  and  you  can't  say  your  con- 
science thoroughly  approved  the  means  you  used." 

"  Thank  you,"  exclaimed  Milford.  '*  I  couldn't 
think  of  doubting  your  sincerity  now.  But  there 
was  a  secret  spring  to  my  enthusiasm  on  that 
occasion." 

"■  I  know  the  secret  and  wish  you  great  joy,"  Law- 
son  replied,  a  strange  softness  in  his  voice.  "  It  must 
be  a  great  relief  to  you  to  know  that  Hempstead  has 
escaped." 

*'  Yes,  it  is ;  and  yet  I  suppose  one  ought  not  to 
indulge  such  a  feeling.  I'm  going  to  quit  the  practice 
of  the  law  ;  legal  methods  of  administering  justice  are 
harassing  to  one's  sense  of  human  sympathy,  they  are 
so  many  hot  irons  to  one's  conscience.  I  would  rather 
hew  wood  and  draw  water." 

"  Well,  you  can  withdraw  from  the  practice  with 
full  knowledge  of  having  been  successful  in  it,  so  far  as 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  267 

you  have  gone,"  remarked  Lawson,  with  suave  compla- 
cence. After  a  moment's  silence,  he  uttered  a  little, 
light  laugh  and  added  :  "  After  all  it  wasn't  any  harm 
to  you  the  way  I  pushed  myself  into  partnership  with 
you.  It  is  real  funny  to  think  of  though,  isn't  it  ? 
We've  both  prospered  by  it.  Seems  like  a  long  time 
ago,  don't  it  ?  Well,  we've  crowded  a  good  deal  into 
life  since  then ;  I  have,  at  least.  Humph  !  what 
strange  luck  I've  had.  But  then  I  felt  that  I  should 
have  it.  Destiny  was  upon  me ;  as  Napoleon  would 
have  said  :  '  The  God  of  Luck  attended  me.'  " 

''  You  certainly  have  been  of  great  service  to  me," 
said  Milford,  with  cordial  promptness,  "  and  I  shall 
always  feel  that  I  owe  you  a  great  debt." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  not  at  all.  I  am  not  to  be  thanked  for 
my  '  cheek  '  and  luck.  It  makes  me  laugh  to  think 
upon  what  preposterous  freaks  of  chance  I  have  won 
my  way.  You  deserve  a  thousand  times  more  credit 
than  I 1  am  a  foot-ball  of  luck." 

"  I  have  been  fortunate,  too,"  said  Milford,  "  very 
fortunate,  I  know." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  have  drawn  the  best  prize  in  life's 
lottery,"  rejoined  Lawson,  in  atone  meant  to  be  cheer- 
ful and  sympathetic,  but  somehow  his  voice  faltered 
strangely.  He  got  up  and  went  to  a  window,  then 
turned  about  and  came  back.  "  It's  all  chance,  any- 
way, and  we  are  fools  for  making  much  effort.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  evil    and  good   are  congenital 


268  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

inflictions  and  must  have  their  time  to  generate  and 
mature.  I  haven't  had  a  thing  to  do  with  my  career  ; 
it  is  the  result  of  a  chance  hereditament.  In  me  have 
centered  many  long  lines  of  hap-hazard,  so  to  speak. 
I've  had  no  control.  I  deserve  neither  praise  nor 
blame.  The  leavens  were  in  me,  and  they  have  fer- 
mented, that's  all." 

Milford  looked  into  Lawson's  face  and  fancied  he 
saw  under  its  half  cynical  mask  the  glow  and  turmoil 
of  passion  and  desperation.  The  thought  that  he  had 
never  found  out  any  thing  whatever  about  Lawson's 
family,  his  past  life  or  former  place  of  residence  was 
suddenly  pointed  and  colored  by  what  had  just  been 
said.     On  the  moment's  impulse  he  asked  : 

"  Are  you  in  trouble,   Lawson  ?  " 

Lawson's  face  flushed  quickly,  but  he  laughed  and 
exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  yes,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  am."  He  glanced 
hurriedly  at  his  watch  and  added  :  *'  I've  got  to  go  to 
Chicago  on  the  eleven-five  train  and  I  forgot  to  tele- 
graph for  a  berth  in  the  sleeper,  and  the  chance  is  that 
I  shall  get  no  rest  to-night." 

"  Blame  your  ancestors,"  remarked  Milford,  rising  to 
go.     "  It  is  their  fault." 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  damn  them  backward  to  the  ninety- 
and-ninth  generation,"  Lawson  responded,  with  bitter 
levity.  "  I  haven't  a  drop  of  honest,  innocent  blood 
in  my  veins  and  never  have  had.     Good-night."     He 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  269 

held  out  his  hand  and  Milford  took  it,  remarking  as  he 
did  so  : 

"  You  are  in  a  mood  to-night ;  have  the  markets  been 
refractory  ?     Good  luck  to  you.     Good-night." 

"  If  you  see — when  you  go — well,  I  guess  I'll  not 
say  it,  let  it  go  as  it  is — good-night  and  a  happy  world, 
old  fellow  !  " 

They  parted.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  the 
strangeness  of  Lawson's  words  and  actions  assert  in 
Milford's  mind  the  significance  it  really  bore.  The 
parting  now  seemed  undoubtedly  final,  eternal.  He 
did  not  understand  why  this  significance  had  escaped 
him  while  the  conversation  was  going  on. 

It  was  but  a  momentary  impression,  however,  and 
he  flung  it  off  as  he  walked  to  his  room,  turning  his 
thoughts  back  to  the  sweet  love-dream  and  the  rosy 
atmosphere  of  the  reverie  from  which  Lawson  had 
called  him. 

Next  morning  McGinnis  came  to  the  law  office  and 
asked  for  Lawson,  and,  when  told  that  he  had  gone  to 
Chicago,  seemed  surprised,  but  made  no  comment. 
This  set  Milford  to  thinking  again  of  Lawson's  strange 
behavior  at  their  parting.  The  impression  grew  in  his 
mind  that  some  disaster,  most  probably  financial,  had 
fallen,  and  that  his  partner  had  absconded.  After 
thinking  it  over  throughout  the  day,  he  went  to 
McGinnis's  office,  hoping  he  would  be  able  to  learn 
something  further,  but  the  banker  was  not  in  :    he  had 


270  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

gone  North  on  a  late  morning  train,  the  clerk  said,  and 
would  be  home  to-morrow  evening.  Milford  felt  at 
times  as  if  he  ought  to  do  something,  he  hardly  knew 
what,  to  ascertain  the  truth  in  regard  to  Lawson's 
financial  relations  ;  but  when  he  came  to  consider  the 
thought  in  connection  with  the  meager  foundation  of 
facts  in  his  possession,  upon  which  to  base  even  a 
suspicion,  he  knew  that  he  must  rest  silent  until  the 
worst  came,  as,  according  to  his  feelings,  come  it  must, 
very  soon. 

That  very  day  he  had  a  letter  from  his  publishers, 
asking  him  to  go  into  the  South  and  write  a  novel. 

"  We  want  it  written  *  on  the  spot,'  as  artists  say, 
and  you  must  put  the  very  South  itself  into  it,  barring 
politics,"  went  on  the  rather  free-and-easy  epistle.  It 
closed  as  follows  :  "  How  soon  can  we  expect  to  see 
the  MS.?  Can  we  count  on  having  it  by  March  ist? 
You  have  taken  the  public  by  storm.  We  congratu- 
late you." 

With  this  letter  in  his  hand,  Milford  called  on 
Marian,  eager  to  have  her  share  with  him  the  pleasure 
it  brought. 

"  Suppose  we  give  up  the  thought  of  being  lawyers 
and  orators  and  set  our  ambition  on  this  quieter, 
sweeter  line  of  life  ?  "  he  ventured  boldly,  as  he  gave 
the  volume  of  Kent's  Commentaries  a  gentle  push 
aside,  and  spread  the  letter  out  on  the  table  in  its 
place. 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  27 1 

''  Let's  put  our  fancy,  our  imagination  and  our 
highest  purpose  into  doing  what  this  letter  asks." 

She  read  in  silence,  then  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"  Then  you  did  write  the  new  novel  that  has  been 
so  highly  praised  ?  Miss  Crabb  said  so,  but  I  could 
not  believe  it,"  she  exclaimed.  *'  I  have  just  read  it, 
and — and — I  don't  like  it  a  bit." 

''  Then  I  deny  doing  it,"  he  said,  ''  for  you  must  like 
every  thing  I  do." 

'*  But  did  you  write  it?"  she  asked,  as  if  afraid  he 
would  say  no.     "  Did  you  ?  " 

**  If  you  like  it,  I  wrote  it  ;  if  you  don't  like  it,  some 
other  wretched  fellow  who  is  tired  of  the  law,  and 
court-houses,  and  jails,  and  gibbets,  is  the  author,"  he 
responded,  a  deep  feeling  gathering  in  his  voice. 
''And  it  is  for  you  to  say  now,  Marian,  what  shall  be 
my  answer  to  this  letter,  and  what  shall  be  my  whole 
future." 

"  That  puts  a  too  heavy  responsibility  on  me,"  she 
said,  *'  I  can't  accept  it." 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  would  not 
seek  his. 

"Then  suppose  we  divide  it,"  he  murmured;  "you 
decide  for  me  and  I'll  decide  for  you." 

She  looked  up  quickly  now,  with  a  radiant  smile  and 
just  a  little  toss  of  her  head. 

"  You  are  something  of  a  lawyer  yet,"  she  exclaimed, 
*'  but  I  am  not  so  easily  caught." 


272  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

He  laughed. 

*'0h,  well  then,  do  as  women  always  do,"  he 
rejoined,  *'  have  your  own  way  about  every  thing.  I'll 
trust  you  to  do  about  right.  But  what  do  you  think 
of  the  letter.?" 

"The  chirography  is  miserably  scrawling  and  un- 
sightly." 

"But  seriously?  The  question  is  a  grave  one.  I 
am  in  love  with  literature,  but  I  will  give  it  up — " 

*'  Not  if  you're  in  love  with  it,"  she  interrupted ; 
"  love  is  not  a  thing  to  be  cast  off  like  a  garment." 

"  True,  but  my  love  for  you,  Marian,  can  destroy 
even  my  life." 

He  put  his  hand  on  hers  and  the  letter  was  under- 
neath. The  window  was  open,  and  they  heard  the  old 
water-mill  growling  and  grumbling  away  down  by  the 
Wabash.  She  did  not  snatch  away  her  hand,  but  there 
was  a  far-off  hint  of  willfulness  in  her  voice  as  she 
said : 

"But  you're  not  to  make  fun  of  women  in  your  next 
story.     I  don't  like  that  ;  it  isn't  just. 

"  And  you  are  not  to  oppose  my  scheme  for  the 
co-education  of  the  sexes  in  the  college,"  she  gravely 
went  on.  "  And  if  your  next  book  fails,  you  are  to 
return  at  once  to  the  practice  of  the  law." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  so  charming  to  have  your  help 
in  writing  this  new  story,"  he  persisted,  passing  her 
conditions  by,  and  moving  his  chair  nearer  to  hers.  "  I 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  273 

think  you  could  keep  out  all  those  objectionable 
things,  and  then,  and  then — "  his  voice  deepened  and 
shook  with  the  intensity  of  his  feeling  ;  "  you  will  be  a 
new  and  inexhaustible  inspiration,  filling  my  creations 
with  the  very  soul  of  all  that  is  high  and  sweet,  and 
pure  and  good.  Come  with  me  and  make  my  life  an 
idyl !  " 

*'  Upon  one  further  condition,"  she  said,  looking 
shyly  sidewise  at  him,  still  smiling  half  willfully  :  "  If 
I  get  tired  of  literature,  I  am  to  return  to  Kent  and 
Blackstone." 

"  Yes,  yes,  when  you  get  tired,  Marian  ;  but  that 
will  be  when  you  are  tired  of  me. 

"  I  am  the  most  fortunate  and  the  happiest  man  in 
all  the  world,"  he  continued,  after  a  short  pause  during 
which  the  rumbling  of  the  distant  mill  was  again  audi- 
ble. "  With  your  love  to  glorify  my  life  and  with  free- 
dom from  the  worry  of  a  detestable  profession " 

She  put  a  hand  on  his  lips. 

"Don't  say  that,"  she  cried  ;  "  I  haven't  quite  given 
it  up  yet — I  may  not  give  it  up  at  all ;  it  has  been  a 
precious,  fascinating  ambition.  I  can  not  be  happy 
looking  forward  to  the  life  of  a  little  old  woman." 

**  My  wife  will  never  be  a  little  old  woman,"  he  said, 
in  the  tone  of  one  making  a  sacred  oath.  *'  Who  that 
loves  and  is  loved  is  always  young  and  beautiful,  is 
always  grand  and  strong." 

Just  then  a  farm  wagon,  one  of  those  big  vehicles 


2  74  A  BANKER  OF  BANKER SVILLE. 

used  for  hauling  corn,  wheat  and  other  country  prod- 
uce to  town,  but  also  turned  at  need  to  serve  the  pur- 
poses of  a  carriage  or  coach,  went  rattling  along  the 
street,  returning  to  the  country  loaded  with  some  young 
men  and  women  who  were  going  home  from  one  of 
Mrs.  Goodword's  meetings.  The  spirit  of  the  revival 
was  upon  them  and  they  were  singing  in  loud,  clear 
voices : 

"  Love  is  the  sweetest  bud  that  blows, 
Its  beauties  never  die, 
On  earth  among  the  saints  it  grows 
And  blossoms  in  the  sky." 

The  clash  and  clack  and  rattle  of  the  great  vehicle 
and  the  clarion  strains  of  the  strong,  healthy  voices  re- 
minded the  listeners  of  what  a  power  Mrs.  Goodword 
was  wielding — it  was  the  chariot  of  her  influence  pass- 
ing by.     After  all,  her  labors  had  not  been  in  vain. 


XIX. 


WHEN  the  telegraphic  dispatch  came  to  Bankers- 
ville  announcing  that  McGinnis,  the  banker, 
had  committed  suicide  in  Chicago,  the  news  flashed 
over  the  town  almost  instantaneously.  The  thrilling 
fact  without  any  details  was  all  that  could  be  found 
out  for  some  time ;  but  at  length  a  rumor  got  abroad 
of  financial  complications,  then  frauds  were  discovered, 
misappropriation  of  funds,  alterations  of  bank  accounts, 
mutilation  of  books.  Men  began  to  look  uneasily  at 
one  another  as  they  walked  swiftly  to  and  fro  from 
place  to  place  in  search  of  information,  for  in  many  a 
breast  there  had  rested  for  some  time  a  half-formed 
fear  that  under  the  surface  of  Bankersville's  apparent 
prosperity  lay  the  germ  of  destruction. 

The  banks  at  first  tried  to  cover  up  the  facts,  hoping 
to  avoid  a  crash,  but  early  on  the  morning  following 
the  announcement  of  the  suicide,  a  run  was  begun  on 
all  of  them  by  depositors,  and  the  doors  of  all  but  one 
promptly  closed.  A  scene  followed,  or  rather  a  suc- 
cession of  scenes,  quite  beyond  description.  It  was  as 
if  some  devil's  rival  of  Mrs.  Goodword  had  begun  a 
counter  excitement,  which  by  its  first  impulse  had  in- 


270  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

gulfed  the  town.  Throngs  of  men  and  women,  old, 
young,  middle-aged,  richly  clad,  poorly  clad,  some  in 
tatters,  all  wild,  crying,  cursing,  shouting,  gesticulat- 
ing, besieged  the  closed  doors  of  the  banks,  struggling, 
frothing,  demanding,  beseeching,  frantic  as  a  herd  of 
wild  cattle  when  surrounded  by  wolves. 

Among  those  who,  though  gravely  affected  by  the 
situation,  kept  calm  and  cool-headed,  the  question  : 
Where  is  Lawson  ?  was  circulated  under  their  breath  ; 
for  if  he,  too,  had  been  into  these  frauds,  if  he,  too, 
had  failed,  then  were  they  ruined  indeed.  Two 
of  their  number,  men  of  energy  and  experience,  were 
sent  forthwith  to  Chicago  to  learn  the  particulars, 
for  it  was  in  Chicago  and  not  in  Bankersville  that 
the  secrets  were  hidden.  This  pains  was  need- 
less, however,  as  within  the  next  few  hours  all  was 
made  public.  Lawson  was  the  king  culprit ;  the 
colossal  schemes  by  which  the  entire  financial  struc- 
ture of  Bankersville  had  been  wrecked  were  all  his. 
Poor  McGinnis  had  been  a  mere  tool,  so  they  said,  now 
that  the  banker  was  dead.  We  never  think  of  fairness  in 
such  cases ;  the  dead  go  free,  the  living  must  bear  all 
the  load.  Perhaps  the  spirit  of  this  is  right,  for  so  long  as 
the  dead  leave  nothing  but  their  good  behind,  evil  does 
not  accumulate  beyond  our  power  to  bear  it  ;  but  what 
would  become  of  us  if  the  dead  all  left  us  their  wrong- 
doings as  a  constantly  increasing  deposit  added  to  our 
own   stores   of  sin    and  shame?     What  a   world  this 


A  BACKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  277 

would  be  now  if  the  corruption  of  men's  souls  had  not 
been,  from  the  dawn  of  time,  buried  with  their  corrupt 
bodies ! 

Where  is  Lawson  ?  The  question  grew  more  and 
more  insistent,  until  it  came  to  be  uttered  like  a  curse. 
There  was  a  time  when,  if  he  could  have  been  found, 
he  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  by  maddened  men 
who  had  trusted  their  fortunes  in  his  hands. 

Two  or  three  days  elapsed,  each  successive  hour  dis- 
closing new  and  distressing  features  of  the  predica- 
ment, but  not  a  hint  of  Lawson's  whereabouts  could  be 
obtained. 

The  one  bank  which  had  steered  clear  of  specula- 
tion, and  other  entangling  financial  webs,  stemmed  the 
panic  without  much  trouble,  and  it  was  in  this  bank 
that  Milford  had  his  deposit,  consequently  he  lost 
little  by  the  frauds  and  recklessness  of  his  partner ; 
but  his  good  luck  brought  him  trouble  quite  as  bitter 
as  a  total  wreck  of  his  little  fortune  could  have  done. 
It  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  people 
to  come  to  him  for  news  of  Lawson  and  to  feel  angry 
when  he  could  give  them  none. 

**  He's  as  deep  in  the  mud  as  Lawson  is  in  the 
mire,"  they  began  to  say ;  and  when  it  became  pretty 
generally  known  that  his  deposit  was  safe,  a  great  cry 
arose  against  him. 

All  kinds  of  rumors  got  afloat  as  to  his  participation 
in  Lawson's  ruinous  schemes  of    speculation.      One 


278  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

asserted  that  he  had  a  vast  sum  of  money  in  the 
undisturbed  bank  as  his  part  of  the  profit  from  all 
those  fraudulent  transactions ;  another  alleged  that  he 
was  getting  ready  to  leave  the  country;  and  still 
another  charged  him  with  a  knowledge  of  Lawson's 
whereabouts.  Men  came  to  him  in  their  desperation 
with  insulting  words  and  threatening  gestures,  charg- 
ing him  with  complicity  in  the  wrecking  of  their  hopes 
and  the  ruin  of  their  fortunes.  Women  reproached 
him  in  the  most  bitter  and  distressing  ways.  In  fact 
it  was  a  reign  of  terror  for  a  whole  week  before  people 
began  to  see  with  their  eyes  and  hear  with  their  ears, 
instead  of  being  led  deaf  and  blind  by  passion  ;  but 
the  calm  was  bitterer  than  the  storm.  Few  persons 
in  Bankersville  had  escaped  loss ;  the  financial  tissue  of 
the  town  was  honey-combed  with  the  track  of  the 
bolt,  so  to  speak,  leaving  properties  and  securities  in 
a  deplorable  state  of  weakness  and  doubt.  Some  of 
the  leading  business  men  were  ruined  and  forced  to 
assign  ;  but  the  most  pathetic  feature  of  the  situation 
was  the  fact  that  many  poor  people  had  lost  the  little 
they  had  laid  up  against  the  coming  winter  when  they 
could  not  earn  much.  There  were  special  instances  of 
the  most  heart-rending  nature,  but  a  picture  of  them 
could  serve  no  purpose  here.  Wherever  a  bank  has 
failed,  or  a  man  of  great  influence  in  financial  circles 
has  proved  recreant  to  the  trust  reposed  in  him,  such 
instances  have  been  observed.     Usually,  as  in  the  case 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  279 

of  Bankersville,  the  gambling  mania  is  the  cause  of 
these  local  cataclysms,  and  many  of  the  keenest 
sufferers  are  individuals  who  have  themselves  rested 
wholly  unaware  of  the  danger  up  to  the  very 
moment  when  the  bolt  fell.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  great  mass  of  the  injured  is  all  the  more  furious 
because  it  has  known  all  the  time  that  it  was  playing 
with  fire  and  has  been  half  expecting  to  be  burned. 
Those  who  play  with  the  beautiful,  iridescent  bubble 
called  a  bucket-shop,  know  that  sooner  or  later  that 
fascinating  film  must  burst,  letting  go  the  subtle 
essence  of  financial  ruin  with  which  it  is  distended  ; 
still  they  play  on,  hoping  to  be  able  to  realize  their 
fortune  of  gold  and  get  away  before  the  catastrophe 
comes,  leaving  others  to  reap  the  death  they  have 
escaped.  The  celebrated  gambling  centers  of  Europe 
are  mere  pigmies  in  their  influence  beside  the  bucket- 
shops  of  any  middle  Western  state. 

When  it  had  been  ascertained  that,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly, Lawson  was  responsible  for  the  ruin  of  Bank- 
ersville's  credit,  honor  and  exchequer,  men  put  their 
heads  together  to  bring  him  to  justice,  and  the  court 
lent  its  aid.  Indictments  were  found  against  him  by 
the  grand  jury  of  the  county.  Detectives  were 
employed,  even  some  of  Pinkerton's,  and  a  systematic 
effort  was  made  to  track  him  down.  An  association 
of  citizens  offered  a  large  reward  for  his  capture,  and 
the  county  commissioners  did  likewise. 


28o  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLB. 

It  did  not  particularly  interest  Bankersville  when  it 
came  to  light  that  Lawson  had  been  one  of  the  chief 
agents  in  perfecting  and  carrying  out  the  scheme  by 
which  the  markets  of  the  East  had  been  flooded  with 
illegal  Indiana  Township  bonds,  but  it  may  have  made 
the  detectives  all  the  more  alert  and  eager  when  sev- 
eral counties  joined  in  advertising  additional  rewards 
on  this  account. 

Milford,  who  felt  that  he  must  firmly  face  the  sus- 
picion which,  on  account  of  his  partnership  with  Law- 
son,  had  so  unjustly  arisen,  remained  in  his  office  day 
after  day,  and  met  as  best  he  could  whatever  came  up. 
His  situation  was  a  distressing  one  under  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, and  it  required  all  his  nerve,  presence  of 
mind  and  moral  fortitude  to  preserve  his  own  dignity 
and  self-respect,  and  at  the  same  time  avoid  the 
troubles  continually  provoked  by  the  bitter  feeling  of 
those  who  had  suffered  so  deeply  at  Lawson's  hands. 
At  any  moment  during  office  hours  he  might  expect 
some  one  to  come  in  and  subject  him  to  the  most 
harassing  catechism  touching  what  he  knew  and  what 
he  did  not  know  in  connection  with  Lawson*s  affairs. 
Some  persons  were  brutal,  some  sly  and  cunning, 
others  tearful,  and  yet  others  pathetically  doleful  in 
their  way  of  approaching  him.  He  would  have  shut 
up  his  office  and  gone  away,  had  not  his  pride  forbid- 
den it.  Even  Downs  and  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  brought 
to  him  the  burden  of  their  great  trouble,  for  they  were 


A  BANKER  OF  BAXKERSVILLE.  281 

compelled  to  postpone  their  wedding  to  an  indefinite 
day  on  account  of  having  lost  the  little  money  they 
had  hoarded  up. 

"  He  was  a  very  Satan  of  a  mane  mon,  yer  partner, 
Misther  Milford,  an'  ye  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  'im," 
cried  the  inconsolable  landlady.  "  But  thin  ye're  not 
at  all  to  blame,  Misther  Milford,  not  at  all ;  only  I 
don't  see  how  ye  iver  bore  the  loikes  of  'im,  so  I  don't. 
He  always  had  a  shape-thayfe  grin  on  his  great  beefy 
face,  an'  I  just  thought  all  the  toime  :  there's  a  snakin', 
undermoining  scalawag  for  ye." 

"  Well,  why  didn't  you  warn  Mr.  Milford,  if  you 
know'd  it?"  Downs  demanded,  almost  petulantly. 
"  If  I'd  'a  dremp  o'  such  a  thing  you  better  bet  I'd  'a 
told  him  quick." 

"  Yis,  yis,  if  ye'd  'a  draymed  o'  any  thing  whativer, 
but  thin  ye  didn't  at  all ;  ye  niver  do  see  any  thing  till 
ye've  gone  past  it  altogither  an'  happen  to  look  back," 
she  cried.  "Ye're  a  very  noice  mon,  ye  are,  to  be 
talkin'  about  what  ye'd  'a  done  whin  ye  niver  was 
known  to  do  any  thing  but  jist  jabber  an'  blow  about 
what  you  would  'a  done  if  ye'd  'a  happened  to  'a 
thought  of  it !  "  She  was  too  much  excited  to  correct 
her  pronunciation  or  smooth  down  her  brogue. 

Downs  laughed  indulgently,  giving  her  the  half- 
deprecating,  half-admiring  look  which  some  parents 
accord  to  spoiled  children. 

"Ah,  yes,   Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,"   he    remarked,   with 


282  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

raised  eyebrows  and  a  beseeching  smile,  his  whole 
face  beaming  with  a  kind  of  comic  regret  and  pathos  ; 
"  if  every  body  could  be  like  you  this  world  'd  be  dif- 
ferent, very  different  indeed." 

Milford  bore  every  thing  with  a  commendable  degree 
of  philosophic  calmness,  even  the  comments  and  sug- 
gestions printed  editorially  in  the  Scar.  That  Ish- 
maelitish  newspaper,  not  being  able  to  solve  the 
mystery  of  the  appearance  and  disappearance  of  the 
strange  old  man  who  had  been  so  familiar  with  Law- 
son,  now  turned  the  stream  of  its  vituperation  upon 
Milford,  with  a  malignancy  as  subtle  as  it  was  abomin- 
able. Here  are  a  few  characteristic  samples  of  the 
Scars  shorter  paragraphs  : 

*'  Scratch  a  rebel  and  you'll  soon  find  a  scoundrel." 

"  A  man  who  will  betray  his  country  will  betray  his 
friends." 

*'  Bankersville  has  hugged  vipers  and  got  stung." 

**The  still  sow  drinks  the  swill.  We  dare  say  that 
the  absconder,  Lawson,  left  a  silent  partner  behind." 

"  How  could  Lawson  do  what  he  has  done  without 
a  confidential  friend  ?  Can't  the  people  of  Bankers- 
ville see  an  inch  before  their  noses  ?  " 

Every  body  understood  these  allusions,  although 
Milford's  name  was  not  used.  Of  course  the  Scar,  as 
a  Western  journal,  no  matter  how  degenerate  and 
fallen,  must  give  a  humorous  turn  to  its  pet  theme, 
now  and  then. 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  283 

"  The  bucket-shop  racket,"  it  remarked,  with  a  com- 
placency that  was  visible  in  the  type.  "  The  bucket- 
shop  racket  has  ceased  in  Bankersville,  and  most  of  us 
are  sucking  our  burned  fingers  during  such  time  as  we 
are  not  lifting  our  hats  to  the  *  honnahble  gentleman, 
sah/  who  set  up  the  job  on  us.  We  can't  afford  to 
stone  fools  now,  for  in  that  case  every  skull  in  Bankers- 
ville would  have  a  donnick  bouncing  off  it." 

During  the  time  that  the  excitement  was  at  its  flood, 
Milford  was  called  upon  by  one  of  the  committee 
appointed  to  solicit  money  to  aid  in  the  capture  of 
Lawson.  This  was  a  square-set,  stout,  bald-headed 
man,  whose  face  was  red,  and  whose  eyes  were  as  keen 
as  those  of  a  fox. 

"  I  have  called  to  ask  you  to  subscribe  to  our  fund 
for  the  apprehension  of  Chester  Lawson,"  he  blurted, 
extending  a  paper  toward  Milford.  **  We  think  it's  a 
matter  that  every  body  is  interested  in,  and  all  should 
bear  a  part  of  the  expense.  Put  down  whatever  you 
can  afford,  Mr.  Milford," 

The  proposition  was  so  unexpected  that  it  astounded 
Milford,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  blank  and  silent. 

'*  I  can  not  take  any  part  in  this  movement,  sir,"  he 
presently  found  voice  to  say.  *'  I  should  think  you 
might  have  spared  me  the  occasion  to — to " 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  won't  give  anything?" 
the  committee-man  interrupted,  almost  gruffly.  "  You 
can't  afford  to  put  yourself  in  that  attitude." 


284  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  I  beg  to  be  the  judge  of  what  attitude  I  dare 
assume,"  Milford  coldly  and  precisely  remarked  ;  "and 
I  certainly  mean  that  I  will  have  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  your  subscription." 

''Well,  I'll  be  dumbed  eternally,  Mr.  Milford," 
blustered  the  old  gentleman,  spitefully  refolding  his 
paper;  *' I  never  would  have  thought  it!  They  said 
it  was  so,  but  I  didn't  listen  to  it,  I  couldn't 
believe  it." 

''Said  what?  Couldn't  believe  what?"  demanded 
Milford,  rising  from  his  seat  and  bending  a  look  of  ter- 
rible anger  on  the  face  of  his  visitor. 

"Oh,  I've  got  no  quarrel  with  you,  Mr.  Milford;  if 
you  refuse,  that's  all  I've  got  to  know ;  but  I'd  think, 
under  all  the  circumstances " 

"  What  circumstances  ?  " 

"  Well,  there's  been  a  good  deal  said,  and  you're  his 
partner,  and  then  you  were  a  rebel,  and " 

"  Go  right  out  of  this  room,"  thundered  Milford. 
"Out  with  you  ! 

"Shall  I  lead  you  out  by  the  ear?"  he  added,  mak- 
ing a  step  toward  the  slowly  retreating  committee-man 
and  lifting  his  hand  with  the  thumb  and  forefinger 
close  together.     The  man  retired. 

This  incident  was  quickly  circulated  through  the 
streets  of  Bankersville,  gaining  a  little  touch  of  addi- 
tional sinister  import  with  each  telling.  Milford 
regretted,  almost  instantly,  his  hasty  action,  but  there 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  285 

was  no  way  in  which  he  could  modify  its  effect.  He 
had  many  and  warm  friends,  but  just  now  they  were 
too  much  absorbed  in  their  own  losses,  present  or 
prospective,  or  too  much  affected  by  the  common 
excitement,  to  stop  and  make  an  effort  to  set  the  pub- 
lic mind  right  upon  a  personal  question. 

Of  course  this  state  of  things  could  not  last.  The 
citizens  of  Bankersville  were  for  the  most  part  worthy, 
honorable,  fair-minded,  and  it  was  but  a  matter  of 
time  when  they  would  resume  a  just  equilibrium  of 
judgment ;  but  this  was  not  very  consoling  to  Mil- 
ford,  as  day  after  day  he  was  subjected  to  annoyances 
which  could  not  have  been  borne  under  any  different 
circumstances. 

The  Scar  kept  up  its  assaults,  growing  more  face- 
tious and  more  bold  as  popular  rumor  aided  its  pur- 
pose, and  the  committee  redoubled  the  efforts  for 
Lawson's  capture. 

"  They're  going  to  git  that  man  Lawson,"  said 
Downs,  "  if  he's  on  the  top  of  earth.  They're  a-rakin' 
the  whole  continent  with  a  fine-tooth  comb,  an' 
a-reachin'  for  'im  from  long  taw  in  every  direction. 
If  they  do  git  'im  he's  a  gone  goslin',  an'  don't  you 
forgit  it." 

''  Do  you  mean  that  he  would  be " 

''  Lynched  ?  "  interrupted  Downs,  taking  the  word 
from  Milford's  mouth.  "Yes,  sir-ee,  that  he  would, 
an'  he   ought  to  be  ;    he's  worse'n  a  murderer ;    he's 


286  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

worse'n  any  thing;  he  lost  me  seven  hundred  and 
forty-odd  dollars  and  thirty-five  cents,  dern  'im !  " 

"  Mercy,  and  yis  ;  besides,  he  got  away  wid  nearly 
foive  hundred  of  moine,  the  villain  ! "  chimed  in  Mrs. 
O'Slaughtery,  "  an'  I  hope  he'll  be  stritched  as  high 
as  a  stayple." 

Milford  found  that  many  persons  in  Bankersville 
entertained  the  views  thus  expressed,  and  it  at  length 
became  fixed  in  his  mind  that  if  Lawson  were  cap- 
tured and  brought  back,  he  would  be  in  great  danger 
of  falling  a  victim  to  'Mynch  law."  It  seemed  that 
this  revengeful  feeling  grew  apace  with  the  constantly 
increasing  probability  that  Lawson  had  found  some 
safe  retreat. 

At  last  the  newspapers  asserted,  and  there  was  no 
room  left  to  doubt,  that  the  criminal  was  in  a  certain 
city  of  Canada,  a  paradise  of  a  class  of  malefactors 
absconding  from  the  United  States ;  and  it  would  follow, 
of  course,  that,  on  account  of  the  imperfect  interna- 
tional extradition  treaty,  his  arrest  would  be  impossible, 
or,  at  least,  futile. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  Milford,  despite  his  conscious- 
ness of  the  demand  of  justice,  to  think  that  Lawson 
would  not  be  brought  back.  He  felt  that  in  the  event 
of  an  extreme  act  of  mob  violence,  the  great  public 
crime  would  work  more  harm  than  would  Lawson's 
escape  from  punishment.  Scarcely  had  the  public 
become  somewhat  reconciled  to  this  phase  of  the  situa- 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  287 

tion,  however,  when  one  morning  it  was  flashed  over 
the  wires  to  the  associated  press  that  Chester  Lawson, 
the  defaulter,  swindler  and  forger,  had  been  found  and 
arrested  in  a  small  village  of  Michigan.  This  gave 
peculiar  emphasis  to  pubJ'V  feeling,  as  the  desire  for 
revenge  leaped  anew  in  many  hearts. 


Xx. 


MARIAN  was  passing  through  this  exciting  episode 
of  Bankersville  history  in  a  state  of  mind  far 
from  comfortable.  Without  understanding  its  true 
spirit  and  import,  she  was  conscious  of  the  ill  feeling 
existing  in  the  community  against  Milford,  on  account 
of  his  partnership  with  Lawson,  and  she  saw  with 
alarm  that  her  father  was  greatly  affected. 

Miss  Crabb  brought  all  the  news  to  the  house,  her 
volatile  renderings  often  lending  to  certain  phases  of 
the  situation  a  highly  colored,  if  not  exaggerated 
effect.  She  remained  a  warm  defender  of  Milford, 
however,  throughout  the  period  of  confusion  and  dis. 
tress,  bringing  the  whole  power  of  her  tongue  and  her 
pen  to  his  aid.  It  was  a  part  of  her  creed  that  the 
world  persecutes  literary  people  for  mere  persecution's 
sake,  and  she  for  one  felt  bound  to  strike  back.  She 
was  loyal  to  her  friends,  and  though  she  admitted  the 
enormity  of  Lawson's  crimes,  she  could  not  keep  from 
her  memory  the  many  kind  turns  he  had  done  for  her 
just  at  the  times  when  she  most  needed  a  friend.  Nor 
was  Miss  Crabb's  attitude  in  this  regard  an  isolated 
one  ;  the  recipients  of  favors  at  Lawson's  hands  were 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  289 

not  few  or  without  influence  in  Bankersville.  Many 
a  good  person,  even  while  the  popular  clamor  made 
any  public  expression  of  sympathy  with  the  great 
culprit  too  dangerous  to  be  risked,  secretly  felt  an 
indescribable  interest  in  him  and  fervently  prayed  that 
he  might  escape  the  vengeance  of  the  law.  Indeed  it 
is  strange  how  deep  and  insistent  is  the  under  swell  of 
sympathy  for  this  or  that  criminal,  in  a  community 
where  on  the  surface  nothing  but  an  almost  unrea- 
soning and  quite  vindictive  and  revengeful  spirit  is 
observable. 

It  is  not  doubted  by  those  who  have  had  wide  oppor- 
tunities to  study  the  subject,  that  very  frequently  men 
have  been  lynched  by  a  crowd  of  persons,  many  of 
whom  were  inwardly  protesting  while  outwardly  they 
were  the  most  clamorous  of  all  for  the  life  of  the  vic- 
tim. In  other  words  the  mob,  no  matter  how  great  its 
numbers,  or  how  respectable  the  individual  m.embers 
of  it,  never  represents  the  deep,  honest,  earnest  feelings 
of  a  community.  Riots  and  tumultuous  acts  of  vio- 
lence in  the  name  of  law  and  order  are  always  the 
expression  of  a  superficial  public  feeling  induced  by  the 
dangerous  stimulus  of  brute  passion.  Usually  it 
happens,  in  the  case  of  any  dangerous  demonstration 
by  a  greatly  excited  body  of  men,  that  unless  the  way 
is  open  directly  to  violent  and  precipitate  action  at  the 
supreme  moment,  a  wave  of  the  under  swell  gets  to  the 
surface  and  the  excitement  subsides. 


290  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

After  the  terrible  scenes  of  tumult  and  rage  and 
agony  had  softened  down  a  great  deal  in  Bankersville, 
and  people  had  begun  to  shape  their  lines  to  the  new 
order  of  things,  there  was  not  a  little  self-blame  uttered 
by  many  of  the  best  citizens,  whose  consciences  hurt 
them  on  account  of  certain  profits  they  had  from  time 
to  time  reaped  in  Lawson's  bucket-shop.  What  they 
had  been  wont  to  call  dealing  in  wheat  and  corn,  and 
pork  and  lard,  they  now  roundly  denounced  as  gam- 
bling of  the  vilest  order.  Of  course,  no  individual  felt 
bound  to  particularize  at  all ;  the  remarks  were  of  the 
most  general  nature  and  were  meant  to  suit  the  col- 
lective body  of  Bankersville  trespassers.  This  was  a 
concession  to  self-love,  if  not  self-respect,  which  was 
not  recognized  by  the  pulpit  orators  of  the  stricken 
little  city,  who  took  occasion  to  preach  fearlessly  upon 
the  evils  of  a  fast,  money-hunting  life,  and  to  animad- 
vert on  the  dreadful  disintegration  of  moral  fiber  made 
evident  by  recent  disclosures.  The  people  were 
plainly  told  that  from  sowing  the  wind  they  had  come 
to  reaping  the  whirlwind,  and  that  they  had  no  one  to 
blame  but  themselves.  Unpalatable  as  this  whole- 
some doctrine  certainly  was  to  many,  it  nevertheless 
had  the  effect  of  setting  thoughtful  people  in  the  way 
of  recovering  that  philosophical  equipoise  out  of  which 
would  come  sane  views  of  the  situation  and  the  abil- 
ity to  profit  by  a  sad  and  bitter  experience.  Slowly 
but  surely  the  judgment  of  a  majority  in  any  com- 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  291 

munity  will  regulate  itself  by  the  dictates  of  righteous- 
ness and  set  a  proper  estimate  on  the  influences  which 
have  induced  a  given  state  of  affairs.  But  the  public 
mind  is  quite  as  inscrutable  as  the  individual  mind, 
and  often  changes  as  suddenly.  The  news  that  Law- 
son  had  been  captured  and  would  be  brought  to 
Bankersville  in  the  hands  of  the  successful  detectives, 
set  the  town  wild  again.  Business  was  suspended  in  a 
great  degree  in  order  to  discuss  the  event,  and  men 
rushed  together  in  groups  that  soon  swelled  into 
crowds.  The  second  excitement  seemed  to  bid  fair  to 
be  more  dangerous  than  the  first.  It  was  like  one  of 
those  dreadful  and  unexpected  relapses  in  sickness, 
whereby  the  symptoms  of  the  disease  return  in  an 
aggravated  form. 

"  Oh,  have  you  heard  the  news  ?  "  demanded  Miss 
Crabb,  with  something  more  than  her  usual  impetu- 
osity. She  was  breathless  and  flurried,  and  she 
dropped  into  a  chair  with  her  hands  spread  out  and 
extended  toward  Marian  :  palms  uppermost,  her  shoul- 
ders raised,  and  her  chin  drawn  back.  '^  They  have 
come  with  Mr.  Lawson,  and  he's  in  jail ;  and  oh,  there's 
such  a  crowd  down  there,  and  such  wild  excitement 
and  horrid  talk!  I  do  think  men  are  the  most  brutal 
things,  don't  you?  They're  going  to  lynch  him, 
Marian,  I  just  know  they  are !  They  are  swearing 
awfully  and  howling  like  wolves  and  squeezing  them- 
selves all  up  together  into  a  solid  mass  around  the  jail. 


292  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Some  are  trying  to  quiet  the  rest  and  save  him ;  others 
are  demanding  instant  execution  ;  and  oh,  it's  fearful, 
aw — w — ful,  hor — r — rid  !  " 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  Do  you  mean  that  they  are 
going  to — to — to  do  something  awful  down  there, 
710W  ?  "  Marian  cried,  springing  to  her  feet  and  putting 
a  hand  on  Miss  Crabb's  shoulder.  "  Are  they  really 
going  to — will  they  dare  do  so  heinous  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  ;  and  oh,  Marian,  he's  crippled,  too  ; 
hurt  by  a  railroad  accident,  and  can't  help  himself !  It's 
a  shame,  a  burning  shame !  I  saw  the  poor  man,  look- 
ing so  haggard,  with  a  bandage  on  his  head  and  his 
arm  in  a  sling.  Oh,  I  felt  so  sorry  for  him,  so  sorry, 
sorry  for  him  as  they  hurried  him  into  the  jail  to  get 
him  away  from  that  awful  mob  !  " 

Dr.  Wilton  came  in  from  the  library,  having  over- 
heard a  part  of  what  Miss  Crabb  had  said.  His  glasses 
were  awry  on  his  nose. 

*'  Father,  I'm  going  down  there,"  Marian  exclaimed 
in  a  tone  of  the  utmost  firmness.  "  This  dreadful 
thing  must  not  be  done;  it  shall  not  be  done  !  "  She 
hurriedly  caught  up  her  little  street  hat,  which  she  had 
cast  aside  when  Miss  Crabb  came  in,  and  without 
another  word  darted  out  of  the  house  and  went  swiftly 
through  the  little  gate  and  down  the  street.  Dr.  Wil- 
ton and  Miss  Crabb  followed  her,  greatly  excited  and 
calling  to  her  to  stop ;  but  she  went  on,  almost  run- 
ning. 


A  BANKER  OF  BAXKERSVILLE.  293 

**What  can  the  child  mean?  "  puffed  the  doctor,  as 
he  managed  with  great  difficulty  to  keep  up  with  Miss 
Crabb. 

"  She's  excited,  exasperated,"  was  the  energetic 
answer.  "Oh,  those  brutes,  those  men,  those — **  she 
could  not  keep  breath  enough  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  Dear  me,  this  is  extraordinary,  this  is,  is  ridicu- 
lous !  "  exclaimed  Dr.  Wilton.  "  Marian,  Marian,"  he 
called,  but  she  did  not  hear  him.  "  Marian,  my 
child  !  " 

"  She's  going  right  to  the  jail,"  remarked  Miss 
Crabb,  "  I  know  she  is,  she's  going  to  save  him.  That's 
what  she  said  she  was  going  to  do." 

"  Well,  well,  well,  I  do  think,  this  is  outrageous !  " 
cried  Dr.  Wilton,  allowing  his  excitement  to  get  the 
better  of  him  for  the  moment.  "  Marian,  Marian,  I 
command  you  to  stop,  instantly  !  " 

But  she  was  far  beyond  reach  of  his  voice  now,  and 
he  began  to  feel  the  effect  of  his  exertion.  All  this 
would  have  been  a  very  extraordinary  scene  in  Bankers- 
ville  and  would  have  attracted  much  notice  and  com- 
ment had  it  not  been  that  the  whole  town  was  stirred 
to  the  utmost  by  what  was  going  on  elsewhere. 

"  Marian  knows  how  to  take  care  of  herself ;  never 
fear  for  her,"  said  Miss  Crabb,  in  a  consolatory  tone,  as 
she  slackened  her  pace  so  as  not  to  leave  Dr.  Wilton 
behind.  "  She'll  not  run  into  any  danger — there's 
nobody  that  would  hurt  her." 


294  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

"  I  can't  see  what  she  does  mean,"  remarked  Dr. 
Wilton  in  a  more  subdued  voice  ;  "  it  isn't  a  bit  like  her, 
not  a  bit  in  the  world,  to  go  off  like  this.  She  must 
be  greatly  wrought  up — dreadfully  excited." 

"Oh,  she  is,  she  is!"  cried  Miss  Crabb,  growing 
nervous  again  as  her  companion  appeared  to  get 
calmer,  '*  she's  just  wild  to  think  they'd  do  so.  I  don't 
wonder  at  it  either ;  it's  blood-curdling.  I  don't  see 
what  makes  men  so  brutal,  and  mean,  and  despicable." 

"  How  could  the  child  ever  dream  of  any  thing  so 
wild,  so  foolish,  so  improper!"  panted  Dr.  Wilton. 
"  But  it's  just  like  her,  just  like  all  women,  going  off 
at  a  tangent  in  this  sort  of  way." 

They  soon  came  in  sight  of  a  dense  crowd  of  men 
packed  in  front  of  the  rather  imposing  and  not  at  all 
gloomy  looking  jail,  which  was  more  like  a  Queen 
Anne  cottage  than  like  a  residence  for  a  criminal.  A 
silence,  ominous  enough  considering  the  occasion, 
rested  upon  the  streets  of  Bankersville  ;  even  the  black, 
motionless  crowd  seemed  to  have  no  voice. 

Marian's  heart  failed  her  when  she  came  as  close  to 
the  jail  as  the  solid  wall  of  men  would  permit.  She 
stopped  and  looked,  overcome  by  a  sudden  sense  of 
her  helplessness,  and  blushed  at  the  thought  of  how 
foolish  had  been  her  purpose  in  coming  here.  Hov/ 
utterly  had  vanished  from  her  brain  the  heroic  deter- 
mination to  address  all  this  vast  crowd  in  behalf  of 
law  and  order  !     What  could    she    do  ?     She   shrank 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  295 

back  timidly,  as  a  burly  man  near  her  began  swearing 
and  cursing  most  blasphemously.  Now  and  again  the 
crowd  swayed  clumsily  with  a  sort  of  wallowing  motion. 
The  fact  was  that  a  strong  body  of  men,  well  armed 
and  under  control  of  the  sheriff's  deputy,  was  guarding 
the  jail,  while  the  corps  of  policemen  acted  as  an 
auxiliary  check  upon  violence  or  disorder  by  patroll- 
ing the  spaces  on  the  flanks  of  the  crowd.  The  offi- 
cers were  proceeding  firmly  but  very  cautiously, 
fearing  that  any  mistake  in  the  direction  of  either 
slackness  or  over  show  of  authority  and  force  might 
precipitate  a  calamity ;  their  experience  making 
them  realize  that  a  chance  breath  could  change  curi- 
osity and  mere  aimless  excitement  in  a  case  like  this 
into  the  most  dreadful  phase  of  human  passion  and 
unreason. 

Dr.  Wilton  and  Miss  Crabb  could  not  find  Marian, 
though  they  wandered  all  round  the  fringe  of  the 
crowd,  looking  eagerly  and  excitedly  about  for  her. 
The  old  man  was  growing  nervous  in  the  extreme  ;  but 
he  was  not  more  pale  than  the  men  he  met  hurrying 
this  way  and  that,  as  if  bewildered. 

"  Where  can  she  be  ?  where  can  she  have  gone  to  ? 
Dear  me,  she's  in  the  greatest  danger ;  it's  dreadful, 
dreadful ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  petulant  fretfulness, 
bustling  hither  and  thither.  Miss  Crabb  holding  on  to 
his  sleeve. 

They  presently  met  Milford,  who  had  been  trying 


296  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

vainly  to  get  through  the  crowd  to  the  jail.  He  was 
calm,  but  pale,  looking  as  if  he  felt  a  great  weight  of 
responsibility  or  danger  and  were  ready  to  meet  it. 

*'  Oh,  Mr.  Milford,  Mr.  Milford  ! "  cried  Miss  Crabb, 
grabbing  his  arm  with  a  nervous,  feminine  clutch,  "  we 
are  so  glad  to  see  you,  so  glad  !  Have  you  seen  any 
thing  of  Marian— Miss  Wilton  ?  " 

"  Marian !  Miss  Wilton  ! "  he  echoed,  glancing 
quickly  from  the  editor  to  Dr.  Wilton,  as  if  shaking  off 
a  cloud  from  his  mind. 

"Yes,  have  you  seen  her  ?  She  came  here  ;  we've 
lost  her,  we're  looking  for  her — she's  dreadfully 
excited !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Crabb.  "  She  surely  can't 
be  in  the  midst  of  this  awful  mob  of  men?  " 

"  It's  remarkable,  extraordinary — it's — I — I — I  don*t 
know  what  to  think !  "  stammered  the  old  man,  look- 
ing anxiously  at  Milford,  his  long,  silky  white  beard 
quivering  strangely. 

"  She  ran  right  out  of  the  house  just  the  instant  she 
heard  that  Mr.  Lawson  was  in  danger,"  Miss  Crabb 
went  on  without  a  pause,  "saying  that  she  was  going 
to  save  him,  and  we  couldn't  stop  her,  or  catch  up  with 
her,  or  any  thing  at  all,  and  she's  gone — we  can't  find 
her.     Oh,  it's  just  awful  !  " 

About  this  time  the  crowd  swayed  wildly,  and  a 
great  bellowing,  buzzing  murmur  ran  through  It,  fol- 
lowed by  a  multitudinous  clamor. 

"  There  he  is  !     There  he  is!"  shouted  the  many 


A  BA.YKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  297 

voices  of  the  surging  mass.     "  Look  at  him!     Look  ! 
Look  !  " 

Lawson,  accompanied  by  the  jailer,  had  stepped 
forth  from  an  upper  window  of  the  jail  and  now  stood 
out  on  an  iron  balcony  high  above  the  heads  of  the 
crowd.  His  head  was  uncovered,  save  that  a  slender 
white  bandage  ran  around  it,  just  above  the  brows, 
and  his  right  arm  rested  in  a  sling.  It  was  generally 
known  that,  while  trying  to  escape  into  Canada  from 
Chicago,  he  had  been  hurt  in  a  railway  accident  in 
Michigan,  and  that  for  a  long  time  he  had  lain  in  an 
obscure  farm-house  while  the  detectives  were  hunting 
for  him  everywhere  else.  He  leaned  over  the  iron  rail- 
ing of  the  balcony  and  waved  his  unhurt  hand  grace- 
fully, just  as  if  he  were  responding  to  a  serenade.  The 
old,  half-boyish  smile  was  on  his  smooth,  heavy 
face. 

**  Fellow-citizens !"  he  cried  in  a  strong,  mellow  voice  : 
"  I  had  not  expected  to  see  so  many  of  you  out  upon 
this  very  interesting  occasion.  For  an  impromptu 
gathering,  this  certainly  does  credit  to  Bankersville 
and  great  honor  to  me.  I  presume  that  you  have  con- 
cluded to  do  me  a  high  favor — a  lofty  turn — to  give  a 
sort  of  lift,  in  other  words,  to  my  career!  " 

"Yes,  d — n  you,  we're  going  to  hang  you  !  "  shouted 
a  voice,  and  then  followed  a  great  noise  and  confusion. 
The  sheriff's  posse  and  the  police  redoubled  their 
efforts. 


298  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

Every  body  would  have  wondered  why  the  jailer 
had  brought  Lawson  out  in  sight  of  the  crowd,  if 
every  body  had  not  been  too  much  excited  to  wonder 
at  any  thing.  The  secret  of  it  was  that  Lawson  had  the 
jailer  under  his  thumb. 

"  You  do  as  I  tell  you,  or  I'll  tell  the  whole  story  of 
Billy  Hempstead's  escape  from  here,  do  you  compre- 
hend ?  "  he  had  said  to  that  worthy,  with  an  air  that 
made  the  threat  very  emphatic.  "  I  want  to  talk  to 
that  mob.  There's  not  a  speck  of  danger.  I  know 
the  people  of  Bankersville  ;  take  me  out,  I  say  !  They're 
a  set  of  cowards  down  there ;  they  don't  know  what 
they're  about." 

The  jailer  had  bolted  all  the  doors  on  the  inside, 
leaving  the  guard  in  the  corridors  and  on  the  outside 
of  the  building.  It  took  but  little  persuasion,  of  the 
kind  resorted  to  by  Lawson,  to  have  its  effect. 

During  the  spasm  of  commotion  that  shook  the 
crowd  at  the  end  of  the  paragraph  of  his  speech,  as 
above  set  forth,  Lawson  leaned  a  little  further  over  the 
railing,  bowing  and  smiling  and  waving  his  hand.  The 
crowd  saw  his  eyes  flash. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you'll  hang  me,  of  course  you  will,"  he 
presently  thundered  out.  *'  I  always  knew  you  would 
hang  me  whenever  my  luck  turned.  Any  man  ought 
to  be  hanged  who  suffers  bad  luck  to  overtake  him.  As 
the  boys  say :  I  ought  to  have  had  better  luck  !  " 

Somebody    laughed,    somebody   cursed,    somebody 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  299 

yelled  out:  "Grit  to  the  bone,  dern  ef  he  ain't!" 
There  was  another  great  turmoil. 

"Yes,  I'm  grit  to  the  bone,  and  don't  you  forget 
it  !  "  cried  Lawson,  his  voice  pealing  clear  and  strong; 
"  and  if  I  had  my  other  arm  all  right  I  could  thrash  the 
ground  with  any  two  of  you  in  a  minute  !  " 

"  And  you  bet  he  could  do  it,  too  !  "  bawled  a  raucous 
voice  from  the  midst  of  the  crowd.  "  I'd  hate  to  tackle 
'im  !  " 

"  But  unfortunately  for  me,  and  greatly  to  your  de- 
light," Lawson  continued,  "  I  am  crippled  and  weak, 
and  in  your  power,  and  of  course  you'll  hang  me.  I 
don't  ask  you  not  to  hang  me ;  but  before  you  begin 
the  fun,  permit  me  the  privilege  of  a  few  parting  words 
to  all  my  friends,  won't  you  ?  Oh,  of  course  you  will. 
I  have  not  a  great  deal  to  say.  IVe  been  unfortunate  ; 
but  I'm  here  to  say  to  you  that  I'm  no  coward  and  no 
thief,  and  further,  if  this  community  will  pay  me  what 
it  owes  me,  I  can  settle  every  claim  against  me  and 
have  a  competence  left  over.  Listen  to  me,  you  men 
who  purpose  to  hang  me,  listen  :  Tell  the  city  of 
Bankersville  to  sell  the  fine  park  I  donated,  and  pay 
the  proceeds  to  those  who  have  lost  by  me  !  Ought 
the  city  to  keep  that  park  and  let  my  creditors  suffer? 
Go  to  your  church-people  and  tell  them  that  Lawson 
has  given  them,  alltogether,  forty  thousand  dollars 
that  ought  to  have  gone  to  pay  men  to  whom  he  owed 
just  debts.     Go  to  your  college,  that  splendid  Christian 


300  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

institution  whose  spires  rise  above  the  woodsy  campus 
yonder,  and  say  to  its  trustees  and  faculty  :  Lawson 
gave  you  a  large  sum  of  money  which  he  gambled  for 
in  Chicago,  and  which  should  have  been  used  to  keep 
his  honor  good  ;  go,  give  it  to  his  suffering  creditors. 
Ah,  you're  quiet  now ;  you  don't  yell  and  froth  now ; 
you're  beginning  to  listen  and  to  thinkand  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourselves.  How  many  of  you  begin  to  recollect 
that  you  have  some  property  that  you  paid  for  with 
money  won  in  my  bucket-shop?  Don't  all  speak  at 
once !  How  many  of  you  have  I  helped  to  get  a  start 
in  business.^  Oh,  hang  your  heads  and  keep  silent,  I 
don't  want  any  of  you  to  expose  yourselves,  I  don't 
mean  to  whine  for  sympathy,  but  I  want  you  to  do 
right.  I  want  you  to  credit  me  with  what  you  owe  me 
and  then  hang  me  for  what's  left  over  to  my  debit.  Do 
you  really  think  your  churches  ought  to  keep  forty 
thousand  dollars  of  my  ill-gotten  gains,  while  men  of 
whom  I  borrowed  money  are  made  beggars  ?  Will 
Christians  consent  to  it?  Can  your  great  institution  of 
learning  afford  to  keep  the  bonds  I  gave  it  and  con- 
tinue to  cut  off  the  coupons  in  the  name  of  a  high  civil- 
ization, while  poor  widows  whom  I  can  not  pay  become 
inmates  of  the  county  alms-house  ?  Hang  me  if  you 
please,  and  as  soon  as  you  please,  but  don't  forget 
where  my  money  went,  don't  forget  that  what  I  have 
given  away  in  your  midst,  for  your  city,  your  college, 
your  churches  and  your  charities,  would  pay  all  I  owe 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  ZO\ 

and  more.  Give  me  credit,  that's  all  I  ask.  Now  a 
word  more.  I've  had  the  Bankersville  papers  regularly 
since  I've  been  gone,  and  I  have  seen  that  your  lying 
editors  have  been  trying  to  heap  my  sins  upon  the 
head  of  Mr.  Milford,  my  law-partner.  I  say  to  you 
that  he  is  as  innocent  of  any  knowledge  of  my 
doings,  or  of  any  share  in  my  profits  or  losses  in 
speculation,  as  any  child  in  this  city.  What  do  you 
want  to  impugn  him  for  ?  He  hasn't  done  any  thing.  I 
thrashed  a  few  editors  hereabouts  one  day,  and  I'd  like 
to  do  it  again,  and  I  would  if  I  were  strong  and  free  !  " 
He  paused  a  moment,  and  lifting  himself  to  his  fullest 
stature,  raised  his  voice  still  higher,  sending  it  to  the 
outer  rim  of  the  audience.  "  Come  on  up  here  with  your 
rope  and  hang  me,  I'm  ready,  I'll  never  flinch ;  but 
stop  this  persecution  you  have  been  heaping  upon  the 
head  of  Mr.  Milford,  for  he  does  not  deserve  it."  He 
looked  slowly  around  over  the  crowd,  his  face  lighting 
up  strangely,  then  he  swept  his  hand  swiftly  over  his 
forehead  and  continued :  *'  My  friends,  you  can  not 
afford  to  disgrace  yourselves  and  this  lovely  little  city 
with  my  blood.  I  know  that  I  can  not  escape.  Per- 
sonally I  would  rather  be  hanged  than  to  be  sent  to 
the  penitentiary,  but  it  is  better  for  you  that  you  abide 
by  the  law  and  let  me  take  the  consequence  of  my  mis- 
fortune. I  shudder,  oh,  I  shudder  at  the  thought,  but 
you  must  not  become  criminals  yourselves  in  order  to 
cheat  the  state's   prison  of  a  victim.     Go  home  now 


302  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

and  leave  me  to  my  fate.  I  guess  I'm  able  to  meet  it." 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  solemn  dignity  with  which 
he  uttered  these  closing  sentences.  His  manner,  as  he 
bowed  and  turned  sadly  and  passed  into  the  jail, 
thrilled  the  now  motionless  audience  with  a  strange, 
deep  pity.  A  sympathy  such  as  is  given  to  a  worried 
and  wounded  animal,  took  possession  of  hearts  which, 
a  few  moments  before,  had  burned  with  desperate  pas- 
sion. Little  danger  of  violence  existed  any  longer;  in 
fact  the  police  began  at  once  to  disperse  the  crowd  and 
to  order  the  streets  cleared.  It  was  as  if  the  show  had 
ended.  Many  men  were  sullen  and  felt  discomfited, 
some  pretended  to  be  wild  with  anger  still,  but  the 
larger  number  began  to  talk  and  laugh  over  what  had 
happened  and  to  feel  greatly  relieved. 

Lawson's  harangue  had  no  hearers  more  attentive 
and  steadfast  or  more  deeply  affected  than  Dr.  Wilton, 
Miss  Crabb  and  Milford.  For  the  time  they  actually 
forgot  poor  Marian. 

Miss  Crabb  whipped  out  a  pencil  and  note-book,  so 
soon  as  Lawson  had  got  fairly  started,  and  fell  to  work 
making  a  short-hand  report  for  her  paper. 


XXL 


MARIAN  suddenly  found  herself  almost  surrounded 
by  excited  men,  who,  so  far  from  doing  her  any 
harm,  appeared  not  to  notice  her.  In  her  efforts  to 
get  away  from  the  crowd  she  became  somewhat 
bewildered  and  lost  for  the  time  all  knowledge  of 
directions  ;  but,  finding  that  no  one  paid  any  attention 
to  her,  she  kept  quite  calm  and  was  able  to  take 
excellent  care  of  herself. 

She  saw  Lawson  and  heard  all  that  he  said.  It  sur- 
prised her  not  a  little  to  note  the  effect  of  his  address. 
To  her  there  was  nothing  eloquent  or  touching  in  the 
man's  words  or  manner.  On  the  contrary,  both  struck 
her  as  coarse  and  even  soulless.  No  doubt  her 
woman's  intuition  or  finer  sense  caught  a  meaning, 
not  observable  by  the  heedless  crowd,  from  certain 
indicative  gestures,  facial  movements  and  intonations  ; 
but  the  collapse  of  her  heroic  resolve  when  she  saw 
the  mob,  was  of  itself  enough  to  take  away  all  the 
romance  from  the  occasion  and  make  her  see  nothing 
but  the  most  realistic  outline  of  Lawson's  predicament. 
Indeed,  his  speech  condemned  him  in  her  heart,  not  so 
much  by  its  crude  vulgarity  as  by  what  seemed 
scarcely  kept  back  of  it :  a  reserve  of  utter  heartlessness, 


304  A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE, 

or  inability  to  feel  shame  or  remorse.  A  woman's 
sympathy  for  a  man  is  quite  different  in  its  nature 
from  that  of  a  man  for  a  man,  under  the  same  stress  of 
circumstances.  A  mob  of  women  most  probably  would 
have  hanged  Lawson  all  the  more  freely  after  hearing 
his  harangue.  The  refined  feminine  heart  may  be 
touched  by  an  exhibition  of  bravery,  or  moral  pluck, 
or  even  physical  courage,  but  it  recoils  from  the  con- 
templation of  mere  beast  boldness  and  callousness  to 
the  effects  of  danger. 

Lawson  had  not  shown  that  sort  of  courage  which 
Marian  admired ;  but  he  had  touched  a  chord  in  the 
hearts  of  the  men  who  heard  him  and  saw  him,  as 
much  by  his  stolid  extreme  of  semi-humorous  indiffer. 
ence,  as  by  the  appeal  to  their  sympathies  through  his 
physical  injuries  and  his  air  of  "clear  grit,"  as  they 
termed  it.  When  a  man  has  this  "  clear  grit,"  or  is 
**  dead  game  to  the  bone,"  he  is  sure  of  that  admiration 
which  is  peculiarly  masculine  and  which  has  its  root  in 
love  of  combat. 

Marian  heard  a  great  many  exclamations  and  frag- 
ments of  conversation  not  especially  suited  to  her  ears, 
as  she  struggled  out  of  the  now  scattering,  and  for  the 
most  part,  good-natured  multitude.  She  quickly  got 
the  impression  that  every  body,  save  her,  was  directly 
or  indirectly  praising  Lawson's  daring  tour  de  force. 
Somehow,  too,  as  the  men  surged  past  her  in  masses 
or  jostled  her  singly,  she  became  impressed  with  the 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE,  305 

importance  of  man's  superior  physical  strength  and 
coarse,  tough  mental  and  moral  fiber;  she  saw  how 
difficult  it  would  be  for  finer  and  tenderer  natures  to 
deal  with  the  rougher  aspects  of  public  life.  She  felt 
ashamed  to  think  that  she  had  dreamed  for  a  moment 
of  attempting  to  do  by  the  highest  appeal  to  honor 
what  Lawson  by  the  lowest  appeal  to  mere  animal 
sympathy  had  so  readily  done.  She  knew  that  she 
would  have  failed  at  best  to  elicit  any  thing  better  than 
jeers  from  the  crowd.  These  thoughts  did  not  formu- 
late themselves  perfectly,  perhaps,  but  fixed  them- 
selves as  im.pressions  able  to  come  out  more  clearly 
hereafter. 

It  was  like  seeing  the  sun  after  a  long  season  of 
dark  weather  when  at  length  she  caught  sight  of  her 
father's  benevolent  face  and  white  beard  through  a 
rift  in  the  swarm  of  people.  She  hurried  to  him  and 
laid  hold  on  his  arm. 

"Are  you  looking  for  me,  father?"  she  demanded 
in  her  sweetest  tone.  *'  I  rushed  away  so  suddenly 
that  I  suppose  you  thought  very  strange  of  it.  Shall 
we  go  home  now  ? "  Before  he  could  answer  these 
rapid  questions,  she  lowered  her  voice  to  a  murmur 
and  added  :  "  Forgive  me,  papa,  I  did  not  think  how 
it  would  look."  In  spite  of  herself  she  was  feeling  as 
if  she  had  called  great  public  attention  to  herself — as  if 
she  had  failed  in  some  effort  that  had  meant  a  great 
deal  to  her. 


3o6  A  BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

*'  Oh,  I  knew  you'd  be  all  right,"  cried  Miss  Crabb, 
putting  away  her  note-book  and  pencil  and  rushing 
upon  Marian.  "•  I  said  so  all  the  time,  didn't  I,  Dr. 
Wilton  ?  But  go  home  now,  dear,"  she  went  on,  in  a 
half  deprecating  tone  ;  "  you're  not  as  accustomed  to 
the  ways  of  these  awful  men  as  I  am ;  and  you 
oughtn't  to  be  here.  Take  her  right  back  home,  Dr. 
Wilton.  I'd  walk  back  with  you,  but  I  have  to  run  to 
the  ofifice  with  my  report.  What  a  narrow  escape  it  is 
from  something  just  awful !  " 

She  hastened  away,  elbowing  along  between  the 
men. 

**  Yes,  yes,  we'll  go,  we'll  go,"  said  Dr.  Wilton,  much 
confused.  "This  is  a  shocking  thing,  Marian,  quite 
shocking,  indeed."  He  did  not  look  at  her  after  the 
first  glance,  but  hurried  her  along. 

Milford  wanted  to  speak  to  her,  but  there  was  no 
opportunity.  Her  eyes  met  his  momentarily,  then  a 
stream  of  men  intervened. 

''  I  glory  in  his  everlastin'  grit,  don't  care  if  he  is  a 
rascal,"  Marian  heard  some  one  say.  "  Then,  besides, 
if  every  feller  that  plays  sharp  in  business  was  hung, 
we'd  have  a  derned  thinly-settled  country,  I  tell 
you." 

"  That's  what's  the  matter,"  was  the  response, 
*'  Chester  Lawson  done  a  heap  for  Bankersville  while 
he  had  the  money  to  do  with.  I  b'lieve  in  givin'  the 
devil  a  fair  shake." 


A  BANKER  OF  BAXKERSVILLE.  30? 

''Oh,  well,  he'll  go  to  the  penitentiary,  he  adnaits 
that  himself,  and  that's  bad  enough.  I'm  just  like 
him,  I'd  rather  be  hung  than  go  there.  But  I'll  be 
dern  if  I'd  want  to  be  lynched." 

"  No,  it  disgraces  a  feller  to  be  strung  up  like  a  dog, 
and  him  all  crippled  up  like  he  is,  too." 

''You  bet." 

Dr.  Wilton  hurried  his  daughter  homeward  as  fast 
as  he  could.  He  drew  a  long  breath,  when  at  last 
they  were  away  from  the  crowd  and  the  murmur  of 
the  confusion  of  voices  had  withdrawn  from  their  ears, 
and  felt  that  relief  which  fresh  air  gives  to  one  who 
has  been  in  a  stifling  and  noisome  place. 

"  Now,  my  daughter,"  he  presently  remarked,  strok- 
ing his  long  white  beard,  "  I  hope  you  are  satisfied  ;  I 
hope  you  see  that  the  spheres  of  women  and  men 
differ  very  widely." 

But  she  had  recovered  her  self-possession  quite  as 
fully  as  he  had  resumed  his  authoritative  attitude. 

"That  question  does  not  arise  now,  father,"  she 
said,  meeting  his  look  with  a  disarming  smile.  "  We 
are  in  no  proper  frame  of  mind  for  discussing  our 
favorite  bone  of  contention.  My  first  duty  is  to  get 
your  forgiveness  for  the  trouble  my  foolish  act  has 
given  you.  I  regret  it — I  am  very  sorry  about  it — I 
am  ashamed " 

"  I  am  glad  you  are,"  Dr.  Wilton  interrupted  with 
the  nearest  approach  to  gruffness  she  ever  had  noticed 


3o8  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

ill  his  voice  and  manner.  *'  I  am  sincerely  glad  you 
are,  and  I  shall  not  expect  to  have  a  thing  of  this  sort 

happen  again  soon.     I "     He   hesitated  a  moment 

and  then  proceeded :  *'  I  know  what  you  started  out 
to  do — you  were  thinking  of  getting  up  before  all 
those  wild,  furious,  cursing  men  and  making  a  speech. 
That  was  a  grand  idea,  I  must  say !  " 

This  from  her  gentle  and  loving  old  father  touched 
her,  cut  her,  as  nothing  else  could  have  done.  She 
burst  into  tears  that  burned  her  cheeks. 

They  were  at  the  gate  now,  and  she  ran  into  the 
house  and  up  to  her  room,  without  making  repl)'. 
Dr.  Wilton  sought  the  quiet  of  the  library  in  which  to 
recover  his  lost  temper.  Never  before  had  he  given 
way  to  anger  with  Marian.  Her  tears  had  fallen  into 
his  heart.  He  sat  down  in  his  arm-chair  and  leaning 
back  closed  his  eyes,  but  he  was  not  left  alone  long. 
Marian  came  running  down  the  stairs  and  into  the 
room.  Her  arms  were  around  his  neck  and  her 
kisses  fell  fast  on  his  forehead.  She  carried  him 
by  storm  before  he  could  think  of  resistance ;  there 
was  not  much  said  between  them,  but  they  both 
felt  very  happy  presently.  Indeed,  Dr.  Wilton  was 
so  very  happy  that  he  did  not  notice  the  extreme 
inconsequence  of  one  remark  half  whispered  by 
Marian. 

"  It  was  honorable  and  just  in  him  to  relieve  Mr. 
Milford  of  all   blame.     You    heard  him   say  it,  papa, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  309 

didn't  you?"  she  said,  in  the  way  of  retrospect  and 
inquiry.  "  He  did  that  much  good  by  his  talk,  any 
way." 

Dr.  Wilton  made  no  answer  and  Marian  appeared 
not  to  expect  any.  She  stroked  his  thin  hair  lovingly 
and  gazed  with  half  dreaming  eyes  out  through  the  win- 
dow over  the  sheeny  distant  river  and  up  the  further 
slope  of  the  Wabash  valley.  She  felt  that,  after  all, 
her  foolish  escapade  had  served  a  good  turn,  since  it 
had  forced  her  father  to  hear  Lawson's  vindication  of 
Milford. 

Dr.  Wilton,  on  his  part,  took  quiet  delight  in  think- 
ing that  the  morning's  adventure  had  greatly  modified 
Marian's  views  regarding  the  highest  sphere  of  useful- 
ness for  women.  He  would  have  suffered  a  great  deal 
more  than  this  to  be  sure  that  she  would  throw  aside 
her  purpose  of  becoming  a  lawyer  and  public  speaker. 
Surely  what  with  Mrs.  Goodword's  rather  repellent 
performances  and  this  adventure  with  the  mob,  she 
had  experienced  enough  to  turn  her  back.  He  was  not 
inclined  to  be  fanatical,  or  bitter,  or  ultra  in  his  oppo- 
sition to  certain  woman's  rights  theories,  but  he  was 
thoroughly  conservative,  all  the  same,  and  held  tena- 
ciously to  his  views. 

When  all  is  said,  however,  it  is  love  at  last  that 
limits  woman's  kingdom  and  sets  the  boundary  to  her 
conquests,  for  she  is  not  wholly  a  woman  who  can 
refuse  to  lay  all  she  has  at  the  feet  of  the  little  blind 


3IO  A  BANKER  OF  BANKER SVILLE. 

god,  no  matter  to  what  height  of  worldly  power  she 
may  have  attained. 

Milford  called  that  evening  with  a  new  trouble  in 
his  mind.  Lawson  had  written  him  a  note  from  the 
jail,  soon  after  the  crowd  dispersed,  asking  him  to 
become  his  bondsman,  that  is  to  go  upon  his  recog- 
nizance, so  that  he  might  be  at  liberty  until  his  trial  at 
court.  This  might  appear  very  easy  at  first  view,  but 
Milford  saw  that  for  him  to  aid  Lawson  in  any  way 
would  certainly  confirm  the  public  rumor  that  he  was 
a  sharer  in  his  partner's  crimes.  He  discussed  the 
proposition  with  Marian,  setting  before  her,  in  every 
possible  light,  the  obligations  he  was  under  to  Lawson 
and  the  consequences  that  might  flow  from  any  act  of 
friendship  or  assistance  under  the  circumstances. 
Marian  was  thus  reminded  of  her  own  probable  debt 
to  Lawson,  such  as  it  was.  She  frankly  told  Milford 
the  whole  story  of  how  Hempstead  had  been  freed 
from  jail  through  Lawson's  management,  as  she  verily 
believed. 

"  He  is  a  bad  man,"  she  said,  reflectively,  '*  but  he 
has,  in  a  strange  way,  done  a  great  deal  for  us. 

*'  One  hates  to  acknowledge  it,"  she  went  on,  after 
a  thoughtful  pause,  "  and  it  doesn't  seem  right  for  one 
to  have  to,  but  we  owe  him  a  great  deal,  a  very  large 
debt." 

Milford  sighed,  pulling  his  mustache  abstractedly. 

*'  I  wish  he  would  let  himself  out  of  jail  as  he  let 


A    BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  3" 

Hempstead  out,"  he  exclaimed,  *'  that  would  end  the 
whole  distressing  trouble." 

**  Is  it  quite  right  to  wish  that?"  Marian  asked, 
unwilling  that  Milford  should  appear  to  fall  back  one 
inch  from  the  advanced  position  he  had  hitherto  occu- 
pied. She  may  have  feared  that  he  was  losing  ground 
with  himself  on  account  of  his  love  for  her. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  is  right.  I  have  lost  my 
standard,"  he  said,  trying  to  turn  aside  the  force  of 
her  question  by  a  feint  of  levity. 

"  But  you  might  help  him  in  some  way  to  get  his 
bail  and  yet  not  be  known — "  she  began. 

"  Marian,"  he  interrupted,  ''you  would  not  have  me 
shirk  a  responsibility  ?  " 

"No,"  she  rejoined,  coloring  a  little,  "you  could 
not  do  that ;  but  you  can  not  abandon  him  altogether." 

"No." 

A  silence  fell  between  them,  as  if  the  subject  had 
been  suddenly  exhausted. 

"  I  owe  my  start  in  business  to  him,"  Milford  pres- 
ently exclaimed  with  a  certain  strain  of  impatience  in 
his  voice.  "  He  saved  me  when  I  was  at  the  point  of 
despair.     I  can  not  refuse  to  go  his  bail  now." 

"  But  it  will  subject  you  to  most  distressing  sus- 
picions and  surmises." 

"  My  conscience  will  be  clear." 

She  rose  and  stood  before  him. 

"Go,  and  do  whatever  is  right  and  I,  at  least,  will 


312  A    BANKER    OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

stand  by  you  to  the  end,"  she  said,  with  a  little  tremor 
in  her  voice. 

"And  God  will  be  with  us  both  !  "  he  cried,  springing 
up  and  taking  her  in  his  arms.  "  How  noble  and  dear 
you  are ! " 

Dr.  Wilton  lifted  aside  a  little  portiere,  and  was 
about  to  enter  the  room,  but  he  vanished  instantly  and 
noiselessly ;  it  was  a  scene  for  which  he  was  not  quite 
ready,  though  he  felt  that  he  would  have  to  submit  to 
what  it  prophesied. 

Later  on  in  the  evening  Milford  told  Marian  that  he 
had  written  the  publishers,  and  had  agreed  to  spend 
the  winter  in  the  South,  making  them  a  story  of 
southern  life. 

"  I  shall  have  to  start  at  the  end  of  six  weeks,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  want  you  to  go  with  me ;  so  I  hope  you'll 
arrange  the  preliminaries." 

"  I'm  not  in  such  a  hurry,"  she  lightly  responded. 
"  I'll  wait  and  see  if  you  are  going  to  continue  suc- 
cessful. Literature  is  a  very  unruly  hobby,  so  Miss 
Crabb  says." 

"But  I  shall  fail  if  you  are  not  with  me,"  he 
said,  and  with  such  earnestness  that  she  became 
serious.  "  Marian,  I  can  not,  I  will  not  go  without 
you." 

"Am  I  so  precious  as  all  that?"  she  murmured. 
"  Oh,  if  I  thought  it,  my  happiness  would  be  too 
great ! " 


A  BANKER  OF  BA NKERSVILLE.  313 

**  But  you  do  know  it,"  he  whispered,  ''and  you  are 
just  as  happy  as  you  can  be,  and  so  am  I." 

And  then  they  forgot  all  the  past,  all  the  future, 
wrapped  in  the  mist  of  love. 


XXII. 

THE  detectives  pocketed  the  various  rewards  offered 
for  the  capture  of  Lawson  and  went  their  ways, 
leaving  Bankersville  in  a  state  of  collapse  after  the 
great  excitement  it  had  experienced. 

Milford  found  the  matter  of  arranging  a  bail-bond 
for  Lawson  a  very  difficult  one  indeed  on  account  of 
the  multitude  of  indictments  and  the  heavy  penal 
sums  required.  There  were  delays  and  hindrances 
almost  innumerable. 

Lawson  did  not  wait  very  long,  however,  for  one 
fine  morning  it  was  announced  that  he  had  "  vacated 
his  apartments  in  the  jail  and  gone  to  parts  unknown." 
The  reader,  being  fully  advised  of  Lawson's  power 
over  the  jailer,  can  easily  imagine  how  the  escape  was 
accomplished.  Of  course,  Bankersville  flared  up  again, 
and  offered  more  rewards,  but  it  was  quickly  found 
out  that  the  fugitive  had  got  into  Canada. 

On  the  night  of  Lawson's  escape  the  Scar  editor 
saw,  lingering  in  the  streets,  the  old  man  about  whose 
peculiar  appearance  and  disappearance  he  had  specu- 
lated so  vainly.  This  mysterious  individual  was  more 
respectably  clad  than  formerly  and  bore  himself  better, 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE,  S^S 

but  he  was  just  as  much  as  ever  an  enigma  to  the  Scar 
editor.  What  connection  he  may  have  had  with  Law- 
son's  escape  could  only  be  conjectured,  but  it  was  very 
authoritatively  settled  that  he  accompanied  him  to 
Canada,  where  the  twain  were  often  seen  together 
apparently  enjoying  themselves  most  liberally. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  people  of  Bankers- 
ville  felt  a  relief  of  no  uncertain  sort  when  at  last,  with 
a  long  breath,  as  it  were,  they  gave  up  all  hope  of  ever 
seeing  punishment  for  any  save  petty  crimes  adminis- 
tered by  the  courts. 

"  Oh,  we  worry  these  criminals  a  right  smart,  an' 
yank  'em  around  an'  skeer  'em  a  good  deal,  but  it 
'pears  like  'at  in  the  eend  they  all  come  clear,"  said 
Downs,  with  a  resignation  in  his  voice  that  appeared 
to  affect  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  very  deeply.  "  Now, 
there's  that  Lawson  jest  a-fattenin'  on  my  money  up 
there  in  Canada,  an'  the  law  can't  tech  'im." 

"  Yis,  the  vagabond,  an'  us  jest   a-waitin'  an* " 

She  caught  herself  with  a  little  cough  and  a  pretty 
blush — *'  awaiting  for  the  law  to  do  its  work,  an'  it  fails 
every  toime." 

**Yes,  precisely,  an'  only  to  think  of  the  young 
ladies,  the  nobby,  high-toned  girls  of  the  place,  a 
carryin'  flowers  an'  books  to  the  dern  whelp  an'  pettin' 
'im  like  a  baby  there  in  the  jail !  They'd  better  been 
a-carryin'  potatoes  an'  flour  to  the  poor  widders  he 
robbed." 


3i6  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

A  great  many  people  expressed  themselves  to  about 
the  same  effect  in  reviewing  the  status  of  Bankersville 
affairs.  But  in  the  West  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
despondency  over  ill-luck.  Men  pull  themselves 
together  and  begin  afresh  after  each  financial  cataclysm, 
with  smiling  faces  and  hopeful  eyes,  plucky  to  the 
death.  This  elasticity  of  spirit  has  been  attributed 
philosophically  to  a  great  many  agencies,  prominent 
among  which  is  malaria. 

"  You  keep  a  man's  blood  a-boilin'  with  an  exhilar- 
atin'  poison,  an'  he'll  everlastinly  git  up  an'  go,"  said  a 
Wabash  doctor ;  "  an'  malaria  is  absolutely  intoxicatin' 
if  you  don't  git  too  much  of  it  into  you.  Of  course, 
it's  like  any  other  intoxicant,  if  you  git  too  much  it 
downs  you  an'  rubs  you  out.  Yes,  sir,  malaria  is  the 
secret  of  Western  restlessness  and  rush  and  enter- 
prise. Whenever  all  this  country  gits  ditched  out  dry 
you'll  see  folks  begin  to  git  satisfied  an'  quiet  an*  all 
this  wild  worry '11  be  over.  It's  a  fact,  no  doubt  about 
it.  Why,  sir,  it's  nothin'  but  malaria  that's  made 
Chicago.  You  jest  eliminate  malaria  from  the  atmos- 
phere of  Illinois  and  Indiana,  an'  that  board  of  trade 
up  there  in  Chicago  *11  bust  insiJe  of  a  week,  'cause  a 
man's  mind's  got  to  be  poisoned  before  he'll  have  the 
nerve  to  buck  against  that  big  a  tiger.  Notice  it  when 
you  will,  an'  you'll  see  that  a  season  of  big  speculation 
in  Chicago  is  a  season  of  epidemic  malarial  diseases." 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  was   a   woman  who     calculated 


A  B  A  NICER  OF  BANKERSVILLE.  317 

financial  probabilities  and  possibilities  very  closely  and 
cleverly  for  one  of  her  limited  opportunities,  but  she 
often  found  it  helpful  to  call  upon  Milford  for  counsel. 
At  such  times  she  always  invited  him  into  her  parlor 
and  came  to  the  question  without  delay  or  circum- 
locution. What  proved  to  be  the  last  interview  of 
this  kind  took  place  a  week  or  two  after  Lawson's 
escape  from  jail. 

Mrs.  O'Slaughtery  appeared  to  be  considerably 
excited,  and  it  troubled  her  no  little  to  get  to  the  point 
of  her  thoughts.  She  tried  to  be  very  grave  and  dig- 
nified and  was  thoroughly  on  guard  against  the  Irish 
brogue. 

"  It's  not  that  I  care  for  the  money,  you  know,"  she 
began,  ''  but  thin  you  know  I  can't  charge  him  any 
board  while  we're  ingaged,  and  so  it's  all  a-comin'  off 
me  all  the  toime,  don't  ye  see.  To  be  sure  it's  all  in 
the  family  loike,  as  you  moight  say,"  she  paused  and 
rolled  her  handkerchief  into  a  ball  in  her  lap,  "but 
oi've  faygured  on  it  an*  it  seems  bad  economy  to  my 
moind.     What  do  you  say,  Misther  Milford  ?  " 

"It  is  very  plain,"  said  Milford,  "that  you  ought  to 
marry  at  the  earliest  day  practicable." 

"  That's  me  moind,  that's  me  moind,"  she  exclaimed, 
vigorously  rolling  the  ball.  "  Not  that  I  care  how 
long  I  wait,  at  all,  but  thin  ayconomy,  Misther  Mil- 
ford, ayconomy  demands  a  change  in  affairs  altogither, 
for  I  can't  afford  the   ixpinsive  luxury  of  kaypin'  'im 


3l8  A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

a-boardin*  on  me  an'  git  no — that  is  not  have — I  should 
say — "  she  got  hopelessly  entangled  and  at  the  same 
time  blushed  scarlet. 

"Oh,  you're  quite  right,  Mrs.  O'Slaughtery,"  Mil- 
ford  kindly  interposed.  "  You  can't  afford  so  barren 
an  investment  as  that,  and  you  must  tell  him  so." 

"  Dear  me !  I  can't  think  of  it  at  all !  The  idea  is 
revoltin'  to  my  womanhood  altogither,"  she  cried. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  him,"  said  Milford  promptly;  "  you 
leave  him  to  me,  will  you  ?  " 

*'  I  always  have  trusted  you,  Misther  Milford,  and 
you've  always  been  so  koind,"  she  sighed.  "  But  it 
doesn't  look  jist  roight  for  me  to  be  all  the  toime 
a-worryin'  you  about  me  own  affairs  intoirely." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Milford  cordially,  as  he  rose 
to  go.  "  Downs  will  not  be  refractory  ;  he'll  thank  me 
for  the  suggestion.  You  may  as  well  get  ready  for  the 
happy  event." 

She  gave  her  pretty  head  a  saucy  toss,  but  made  no 
reply,  save  by  darting  a  bright  smile  at  Milford  as  he 
went  out. 

It  was  near  this  time  that  the  editor  of  the  Scar 
found  what  he  called  a  "  lead  "  in  connection  with  Law- 
son's  past  life.  A  series  of  very  sensational  editorials 
followed,  giving  what  purported  to  be  a  history  of  the 
"  cheekiest  fraud  of  the  age,"  a  history  quite  authentic, 
no  doubt,  in  all  its  main  features.  Lawson's  true 
name  turned  out  to  be  McGlaughson,  and   his  former 


A    BANKER   OF  BAXKERSVILLE.  3^9 

home  Kansas,  where  his  father  had  served  a  long  term 
in  the  state's  prison  for  fraudulent  land  transactions 
and  forgery. 

**  The  whole  family  seems  to  have  been  tricky,  to 
say  the  least,"  ran  a  Scar  paragraph  ;  "  for  two  of  the 
brothers  of  our  hero  were  hanged  in  Texas  and  Indian 
Territory  for  appropriating  personal  property,  and  the 
mother  of  the  family  was  suspected  of  secreting  stolen 
goods.  Our  man  was  the  best  of  the  lot,  in  many 
respects.  He  was  educated  by  an  uncle  of  his  mother, 
a  rich  California  man,  who  sent  him  to  Europe  to  get 
culture  ;  but  this  benefactor  died  suddenly,  without  a 
will,  leaving  the  young  adventurer  high  and  dry. 
Then  he  came  to  Bankersville,  under  the  name  of  Law- 
son,  and  began  his  streak  of  luck." 

Every  body  could  see,  now  that  the  line  of  vision 
was  turned  backward,  how  Lawson's  short,  disastrous 
career  had  been  almost  wholly  controlled  by  mere 
luck.  He  had  possessed  a  certain  sort  of  pluck  and 
nerve  and,  no  doubt,  he  had  not  that  dread  of  failure 
which  haunts  minds  of  a  higher  and  purer  order.  Con- 
science with  him  was  a  mere  whim,  absent  or  present 
according  to  circumstances ;  moreover,  his  selfishness 
overshadowed  every  other  element  of  his  character. 
He  was  a  bird  of  prey,  always  hungry,  always  watching, 
always  pouncing,  attempting  to  devour  whatever  came 
in  his  way,  utterly  regardless  of  the  consequences. 
He  told  the  truth   when   he  said   that  not   a   drop   of 


3  2  o  A  BA  NKER   OF  BA  NKERS  VILLE. 

honest  blood  ran  in  his  veins.  He  had  come  of  a 
long  line  of  men  who  had  lived  by  their  wits,  lived 
by  the  chances  of  the  times,  who  had  preyed  upon 
mankind  in  seasons  of  need  and  misfortune.  With 
him  to  trust  to  luck  was  hereditary,  and  to  ex- 
pect fortune  to  favor  him  was  a  traditional  trait. 
He  was,  in  some  degree,  a  type,  peculiarly  Ameri- 
can, of  the  character  which  has  given  to  the  West 
much  of  its  spasmodic  progress  as  well  as  most  of  its 
picturesque  villainy,  and  his  career  may  be  found 
recorded  in  almost  exact  duplicate,  so  far  as  essen- 
tials go,  in  a  large  number  of  Western  towns,  the 
career  of  a  financial  adventurer  known  as  the  child  of 
luck.  It  has  never  been  known  whether  he  had  for- 
warded to  Canada  a  sum  of  money  before  his  collapse 
came,  but  people  generally  believed  that  he  had.  At 
all  events,  he  is  reported  to  be  living  with  his  father  in 
a  comfortable  way,  and  to  be  growing  fat  and  lazy 
doing  nothing.  No  effort  has  ever  been  made  to 
fetch  him  back  to  Bankersville  for  trial,  and  he  prob- 
ably will  pass  the  rest  of  his  life  unmolested  in  the 
midst  of  a  small  colony  of  men  of  his  ilk  who  have 
fled  from  angry  creditors  and  crazed  partners  to  a  safe 
retreat,  where  they  can  enjoy  their  ill-gotten  fortunes 
under  the  kind  shadow  of  a  very  accommodating 
phase  of  the  extradition  laws. 

Bankersville  has  almost  forgotten  Lawson  and  his 
luck.     It  is  a  thriving  city,  full  as  ever  of  banks  and 


A   BANKER   OF  BANKERSVILLE.  321 

speculators,  and  it  has  two  bucket-shops  instead  of 
one,  to  say  nothing  of  its  faro  "dealers,"  its  ''bunko 
steerers,"  and  its  "  poker  cappers,"  all  doing  a  fair 
share  of  business.  The  college  is  still  open  to  young 
gentleman  only,  and  Dr.  Wilton  has  been  dubbed 
Caesar  by  the  seniors  for  the  reason  (as  they  say)  that 
he  has  conquered  "  immense  Gaul  (gall) "  in  finally 
putting  down  the  advocates  of  co-education. 

If  you  should  ever  go  to  Bankersville  it  would 
delight  you  to  stop  at  the  Downs'  House,  on  the 
corner  near  the  post-office.  The  place  has  a  faint 
Irish  flavor,  so  to  say,  but  the  fare  is  good  and  the 
charges  are  moderate.  The  proprietor  is  a  broad- 
faced,  sanguine,  genial  soul,  who  is  over-fond  of  telling 
stones  of  when  he  was  "  nothing  but  a  chunk  of  an 
auctioneer." 

Milford  has  become  a  confirmed  professional  littera- 
teur^ and  Marian  helps  him  in  his  work  a  great  deal, 
notwithstanding  that  she  often  declares  that  all  liter- 
ary men,  with  the  occasional  exception  which  proves 
the  rule,  are  weak  little  fellows  personally,  and  exert 
an  influence  essentially  inferior  to  that  of  the  orators. 
They  have  been  spending  their  winters  in  St.  Augus- 
tine, Florida,  and  their  summers  in  Bankersville,  living 
a  very  quiet,  happy  life,  troubled  very  little  with  the 
complications  of  contemporary  social  and  political 
struggles,  and  slowly  forgetting  that  they  were  ever  a 
part  of  that   restless  young  America  whose  spirit   is 


322  A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVILLE. 

conquest,  progress,  acquisition,  at  all  hazards  and  by 
any  means.  They  have  made  it  a  pleasure  to  assist 
Miss  Crabb  over  the  rough  places  of  the  fascinating 
road  which,  with  constant  hope,  the  literary  hack  is 
doomed  to  travel,  without  ever  getting  more  than  a 
tantalizing  waft  from  the  Eden  of  success. 

They  have  once  or  twice  planned  to  spend  a  sum- 
mer in  Canada,  but  as  often  have  abandoned  the 
thought  Avhen  it  occurred  to  them  that  they  possibly 
might  chance  to  meet  Lawson.  They  do  not  mention 
his  name  when  it  can  be  avoided,  for  they  have  never 
got  rid  of  a  strange  feeling  of  doubt  and  gloom  in 
connection  with  his  memory,  and  it  is  the  only  skele- 
ton in  their  closet :  this  knowledge  that  they  owe  him 
a  debt  they  never  can  pay. 

Milford's  "record"  does  not  trouble  him  much  now. 
Once  in  a  while,  when  news  items  are  scarce  and  the 
Scar  editor  is  suffering  from  an  unusually  stubborn 
attack  of  malaria,  there  appears  in  his  journal  a  grave 
warning  to  the  people  against  harboring  ex-rebels  and 
tolerating  certain  young  men  who  *'  appear  to  be  try- 
ing to  lower  Chester  Lawson's  record." 

Not  long  ago,  two  rather  well-dressed  but  disreputa- 
ble looking  persons,  an  old,  wrinkled  m.an  and  a  cor- 
pulent, middle-aged  fellow,  sat  at  a  table  in  a  low  beer- 
room  in  Toronto. 

"  Well,  suppose  Congress  do  ratify  the  proposed 
treaty,  the  result  can  not  affect  us — a  treaty  can't  be 


A  BANKER  OF  BANKERSVJLLE.  323 

retroactive,"  said  the  younger,  as  he  slowly  glanced 
over  the  columns  of  a  morning  paper.  "  What  do  we 
care  how  soon  they  ratify  it?" 

The  old  man  looked  wistfully  into  the  bloated  face 
of  his  companion,  but  made  no  answer.  Presently  the 
stolid  eyes  of  the  latter  fixed  themselves  on  a  para- 
graph— a  mere  trivial  "  literary  note,"  and  a  grayish 
light  ran  over  his  cheeks  as  he  read  : 

"  It  is  said  that  the  beautiful  wife  of  Louis  Milford  assists  him  in 
writing  his  novels." 

Slowly  Chester  Lawson's  head  sank  upon  the  table, 
and  for  a  long  while  he  mused  in  silence. 

What  were  his  thoughts?  Was  he  realizing  that  ill- 
gotten  wealth  is  the  greatest  menace  a  free  govern- 
ment has  to  confront  ?  Was  he  pondering  over  the 
mistakes  of  his  past  life  ?  Or  was  he  dreaming  the 
old,  old  dream  ? 


THE  END. 


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